


The Maple-Bone Wand

by BGBadWolf



Series: Adventures of Arawn Mortilus [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Asexual Charlie Weasley, Black Hermione Granger, Bullying, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Indian Harry Potter, LGBTQA+ friendly, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Sadness and Fluff, Tags May Change, Trans Charlie Weasley, Trans Male Character, tw misgendering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21874513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BGBadWolf/pseuds/BGBadWolf
Summary: I'm sure everyone has their 'if I received my Hogwarts letter' dreams and fics. This one happens to be mine. A lot of this was born from 'what if' and a wonderful phrase that someone said to me once-- "Write the one you want to see, not the one they got wrong." I've gleefully taken to doing just that.Join Arawn Mortilus as he learns that he not only has magic but a chance at a life he'd only dreamed of.
Series: Adventures of Arawn Mortilus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575877
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so before you read too far I want to let you (the reader) know that **I NEVER INTENDED TO POST THIS PUBLICLY. EVER.** (But I am posting it because... well honestly it's spite and disappointment in the original series author.) I started writing it a little after my uncle died a couple years ago as a coping mechanism. I actually have a couple fics like this and I was surprised to realize there is actually a lot here so with recent events being what they are I figured maybe I'd share it. (Albeit that I'm very nervous to do so.)
> 
> The story starts out very personal and the first couple chapters have some stuff that makes/made me a little nauseous to read/write but it's a very big part of the character's beginning and it felt important to me to write it. (I played with other beginnings but they didn't feel right and didn't explain his motivations.) That being said, if you can handle it/want to push through then welcome-- if you can't I totally understand. 
> 
> Because I don't want this to negatively affect anyone I'm going to forewarn you that there is some misgendering and some child abuse within the first (I think two) chapters _(don't worry! he gets out of that situation really quickly and it's nothing graphic! This isn't like Rowling making a kid live with their abusive fucking family for poorly thought out plot reasons!)_
> 
> So, with that warning made, I hope you enjoy the story! ♥

..

  
Arawn sat in the little hotel room, swinging his feet as he stared out the window. For a trip to another country, he thought this might have been a little more interesting, but as it was… well...

“Mae-Mae? Hey, pumpkin. You doing alright here? Have enough books?”

Arawn glanced up before dropping his gaze to his lap. “Yeah, mum. I’m good here.”

Arawn’s mum bustled around the little room picking up the few bits of clutter he’d left out before coming over and hugging him. “I’m sorry about having to wait to explore but I did tell you this was a business trip and wouldn’t be fun. Maybe we can go out and do some real girl things tomorrow when I get some time off?”

“Sure,” he said forcing a smile before turning back to the window. As his mother bustled back out of the room he absently repeated the word. “Sure.”

The days had been lovely so far on the trip and they’d already been to a couple of different countries before the meetings. It should have felt nice but any time with his family was… well… he hated it. He put on the dresses, combed and braided his hair, and forced a polite smile for all his mother’s business friends but he despised it. Here he wasn’t allowed to wear the hiking boots and jeans that he so dearly loved and still his parents refused to call him by the name he’d requested a few years back. Everyone liked to claim it was a phase-- like deciding he liked skulls more than dalmatians. Of course, he didn’t like either now. Well, that was a lie, he still liked skulls but not for the reason that people seemed to think. Dogs, on the other hand, were often too loud and too big for him to feel comfortable and touching them left an oil on his hands that made his skin crawl worse than the idea of touching the gunk that gathers in the drain of the sink.

As he pushed aside the thoughts of what tomorrow might be like, he opened the book he’d been trying to muddle through for his homeschool course. He didn’t intend to try and read more though. No, instead his attention was on the bookmark. The bookmark was an advertisement for a local museum. Or church. He wasn’t quite sure because sometimes he could swear that it changed. Still, when he’d first read it, there had been a post about a local attraction that featured a collection of skulls and a cemetery tour that he’d been ‘dying’ to go on. At least that was the joke he’d told in trying to get permission to go. Sadly, everyone seemed to think that he was too young to go alone-- but not stay in the hotel alone all day for the past two weeks-- and there was no one to go with him since ‘everyone’ his mother considered acceptable was busy with the meetings.

They only had one more day here and a part of him still hoped that he’d get to go. Perhaps his mother would surprise him? Maybe instead of going to a modern art museum-- which he usually disliked because they felt too sterile-- and trying on dresses that were very nice but not something he’d want to wear, they’d go and visit the local crypts and listen to the tours that talked about the history? It wasn’t going to happen but he entertained the dream for a few moments before closing the book again.

Slipping off the little window ledge, he made his way over to the bag with his schoolbooks and simply stood there looking down at it all. He loved learning. Usually. At least, for the most part. Overall he did fine, and his mother trusted him to check his work. His schoolwork was never a problem and the monthly visit with their assigned worker always went well when they did impromptu tests. He didn’t even mind schooling himself unless he ran into problems he couldn’t puzzle out. Lately, when problems _did_ arise he would seek out the hotel workers and help them make beds or take out trash as they took a look at the issue-- usually math-- and helped him through it if they could. One of his favourites to seek out, Bill, was particularly good at it and often explained it in the just right way for Arawn to understand even though Arawn struggled with numbers the most.

All that aside, he was bored.

Horribly, terribly, frightfully bored.

Tucking his book away into his hoodie, Arawn decided to go see if Bill was still on shift for the day. Sometimes when the man wasn’t busy they could play chess in the back. Though Arawn hated the game, it was nice to do something other than sitting by himself as he read or drew. The hall was quiet when he slipped out of the room and towards the back stairs. With the practice he’d gained over the last two weeks of staying there, he avoided the creaky steps by pushing off the handrail and jumping the steps he didn’t like. The last step was always really loud, so he simply jumped the whole final part, tucking into a roll as he hit the ground and bouncing back up to his feet just as someone began to clap.

“Excellent landing. Ten out of ten. Great form,” Bill said as he tied off the trash bag and straightened. “Evening, Arawn.”

Arawn couldn’t help but smile. That was the other thing that he liked about Bill-- he always called him by his preferred name or a nickname if his mom was near. Arawn tucked his hands back into his hoodie, running his nail absently over the uneven pages of the book as he wandered over and greeted Bill, “Hi. ...need help with the trash?”

Bill exaggerated wiping the sweat from his brow while giving a winded whistle. “Oh. Think you can manage? This one’s heavy.”

“You say that,” Arawn said as he picked it up and walked it over to the cart with the others, “but they never are.”

“Perhaps it’s just American kids but you _are_ strong. Stronger than me that’s for sure.”

“Hay bales are heavier,” Arawn said as he heaved the bag into the container and headed for the next as Bill fell into pushing the cart. At the door of the next tiny meeting room. “How do they make so much trash when all they do is argue about fonts?” Arawn asked as they got to the next bin and he set to tying it off like Bill had taught him.

“Well… that’s a good question. I think most of them order lunch and don’t eat it. Seems some adults are always on diets and whatnot.”

“Hm.”

Arawn didn’t answer that because from what he knew of most adults it was true. His mum was _always_ on a diet. There were a few times where she’d even talked about putting _him_ on a diet but then he’d grow a few inches and be back to being what she called ‘normal’ sized which made her say she was going to hold off. Plus, the theory of people just tossing food was confirmed if anyone bothered to simply look in the trash can. A look in the trash usually revealed stupid amounts of wasted food. You could feed a city with the amount they tossed every day. It was ridiculous.

“You seem rather sombre today kiddo, something up?” Bill asked, leaning onto the handle of his cart and giving Arawn his full attention.

“I--” Arawn caught sight of his mum at the end of the hall and moved quickly so that he was standing behind the cart as he finished tying off the bag-- “Uh. It’s... nothing.”

“Still want to go to the museum and on that tour?”

Arawn had shown Bill the advertisement when he’d first found it. Or truthfully it had fallen out of his pocket and Bill had asked him where he’d gotten it. Shrugging, Arawn confirmed, “Kinda. A museum would be nice. So far my essay on this trip is going to be-- I counted seven different trains but I saw them each fifteen times though I’m sure they passed more than that and the most interesting thing I’ve seen was a purple bus that didn’t seem to follow American or European driving laws-- I checked-- but no one seemed to care. It rained, which I liked, but the sheets felt weird and sometimes the quiet was too loud or the noise was too loud or it was just loud in general which is strange to say but overall I somehow missed the sound of frogs. The end.”

Bill chuckled. “That still sounds like a good essay.”

“It’s supposed to be half a page for every day that I’m here. ...I was really hoping to pad it out with something interesting but mum wants to go do ‘girly’ things tomorrow.” He tried to keep the misery out of his voice, he really did, but a great heaping spoonful seemed to fall out anyhow. “Sorry. I’m just whinging.”

“Well, you are at least getting a hang of the language. Perhaps you could write about that?”

“I could but I think there are only so many times I can use knackered, knob, and bollox without someone catching on.” Arawn joked with a halfhearted shrug as he pushed the back door open and helped Bill with getting the cart down the stairs. He grunted with the effort as he asked, “do you think you’ll have time for some chess before you go tonight?”

“I might. ...Or I could ask your mum if she minds me taking you to the museum so you can properly pad out that essay.”

Arawn nearly dropped the cart and definitely missed the last step but he caught himself with barely a wobble as he asked, “REALLY? You think she’d let me go?”

“No harm in asking. She was just down the hall, right? Why don’t you go grab her while I finish this up and clock out.”

With a nod, Arawn tore back up the stairs and down the hall. He’d not dare to shout and possibly disturb any of the meetings still going on but when he caught sight of his mum chatting with someone near the taster table he bounded up like an excited hound and still nearly knocked her glass in his excitement. “Mum. ... mum? mum--”

“Yes, hun? I’m a little busy--”

“Can I go with Bill to the museum? It would be for my essay. Please? The pamphlet said that tours run till 9 and it’s only 5 right now. Please? It would mean I’m not by myself.”

“Honey, I can’t have you badgering the staff here into--”

Bill arrived and offered out a hand, cutting her disapproving lecture off. “Miss Ranklin? Hi. Smartypants and I have been doing chess in the evenings, I hope you don’t mind this sudden ask but I was going to take my parents to go to the museum and take the tour today-- for their anniversary you see-- and I know Ar-- thur. Uh, my father, Arthur. He wanted to go… Well, I just wanted to make the offer. I’d be more than happy to take the kiddo off your hands for a bit since I planned I going anyhow…?”

“Please? I’ll even do an extra page for the essay.” Arawn begged. “With extra sketches and everything.”

“I… Mae, dear, how about you run up to the room and brush your hair while I talk to Mr…”

“William. William Weasley, but I prefer to be called Bill,” Bill said as he shot Arawn a wink and lead his mum away.

Without needing to be told twice, Arawn shot up the stairs taking them two at a time and sprinting like a much less well-behaved child for his room to brush and get changed from the hoodie and pyjama pants he’d been wearing. He had just finished rolling up the legs on his pants to hide his wearing them under his skirt and was giving his hair a quick brush when his mom gave a single knock and opened the door.

“Hunny? Ah-- you’re already dressed…”

He didn’t like that tone. Arawn lowered his arms slowly after pushing clipping down hairpin to hold his growing bangs away from his face. Much like the section of his father’s lawn that he’d helped lay wet paper on-- his excitement began to wither as he hesitantly asked, “Can I not go?”

“Well, I just don’t feel comfortable--”

“I’ve been good,” Arawn whispered, already trying to hold back tears as the fading happiness curdled into childish despair at the prospect of not going. “I’ve done all my homework. I even did extra. I just… please?”

“Oh hun, I just don’t feel right sending you off with this young man-- nice as he seems-- but things can happen to girls… How about this,” Arawn’s mum came around and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “He asked that I wait to meet his parents before deciding, so I haven’t given an official answer. Maybe once I see them…”

Trying to hide a sniffle, Arawn used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe at his eyes before saying, “Please, momma? We’re only here one more day and you have stuff you want to do tomorrow. And I… I read about the catacombs. It’s not like the Paris catacombs with the skulls cause it’s not as old but it is a few hundred years older than anything in the U.S. They don’t allow pictures but I can do extra drawings for the essay…”

It was as much begging as just blathering and trying to express why he found it so interesting. Thankfully, his mum’s will seemed to be crumbling. “Well, you have been really good this trip and you _had_ wanted to see the Paris catacombs-- and I’m really sorry we couldn’t detour there-- so I suppose…”

“I’ll be good. I promise. Extra pages and everything. Promise.”

She sighed. “We’ll see. I’m edging towards a yes but I do want to meet who you will be going with first and I want you to take a map and my cell phone with you in your bag if you do go. And a jacket.”

Of course, he was already wearing his jacket but he never argued if he could help it so he simply gave a curt nod as his hopeful smile began to return. “Okay.”

It was only a few minutes later that he was waving to his mum before walking away with the rather eclectic looking family who, oddly enough, had looked mildly more presentable before rounding the corner. Not that they didn’t look presentable now, but Arawn could have sworn that Mrs Weasley’s shawl had been a simple beige yet now it was a multicolour swirl that was rather ostentatious. He also though that previously Mr Weasley’s suit and tie was… well… a suit and tie but now his jacket hung much lower and his tie was a colourful bowtie that matched his wife’s shawl.

“Uhm, can we stop for a moment?” Arawn asked, fidgeting with the hem of his skirt.

Bill nodded. “Something up? Forget something?”

Arawn shook his head, already unrolling his pant legs and pulling off the skirt. It was the only pair of pants that he’d snuck into his pack in the little secret compartment in the back-- the rest of his clothes were the skirts and dresses that his mother had insisted he take. As he folded the skirt and tucked it into his bag, Bill chuckled and turned to his parents-- assuming that’s who they really were-- to give them hugs as he said, “Thanks for coming on such short notice. I figured it might be the only way to get Arawn’s mum to allow this.”

After Arawn finished tucking his hair up into a messy bun he gave a small wave when all eyes turned towards him again and Molly asked, “Arawn? Sorry dear, I thought she said your name was--”

“Arawn.” Bill filled in, giving his mother a look. “Like Charlie.”

“I--” Arawn went to tuck his hair behind his ear only to remember that he’s just put it up when his fingers brushed only open air-- “Uhm, I don’t-- If it’s okay that is… I understand if--”

“Nonsense dear,” Mrs Weasley interrupted as she shared a glance with her husband, “That’s perfectly fine dear. Now, I know we didn’t get a lot of introductions before so I’m Molly and that man there is Arthur, my husband. So, Bill, dear, you didn’t tell us why we were to dress nicely and leave the kids-- be a miracle if the twins don’t burn down the house before we get back even if Percy is home. I just don’t--”

“Mum.” Bill set a hand on her shoulder, “They’ll be fine for one evening. I figured you and dad could use a night off. It is your anniversary after all.”

“Oh… is it?” Molly’s hand flew up to her face as her cheeks began to redden. “Bless me, I’d completely forgotten.”

Bill held up a handful of tickets. “Well, that’s why I remembered. I thought you and dad might like this. It’s a muggl-- a, ah, uh-- a mmmm… a tour. It’s a tour. Through a museum and a crypt. I know it’s not quite your thing, mum, but I thought dad might like it and it gave you a chance to have a break from the house.”

Arawn looked between everyone as they all went into a bought of silent stares and trying to converse with facial expressions alone. He’d seen Bill do it before with the hotel owner, Vimmy, as well as one of the cooks, and he figured it must be some sort of British thing. When it had gone on long enough to be uncomfortable, he pulled out his wallet. “Uhm, Bill? I can pay for my own ticket. I’ve been saving for this trip for a while and haven’t gotten to go anywhere so I still have all my savings.”

Bill held out one of the tickets with a grin. “Too late. Save it for the gift shop.”

“I--... ok.”

Molly took the ticket and looped Arawn’s arm through hers on one smooth movement as she said, “I’ll hold onto this for you, dear. Bill, why don’t you take a moment and talk to your father while we go on ahead?”

Together they trundled off while Bill and Arthur fell behind. It was perhaps a block later before Molly slowed and muttered, “And I don’t actually know where I’m going.”

“It’s two more blocks,” Arawn said, remembering the map that he’d studied while sitting in the window and only wishing he could go, “and then a left. You can see it from here. It’s that white building there.”

“Ah. Thank you, dear. ...so, Arawn, I know why Arthur, bless him, would want to visit a mug-- uh, museum. Like that. But I’m curious why you want to? You know we could do something else if you preferred…”

“I want to.” Arawn focused on the ground, counting steps as he answered quietly, “I like things that people overlook. The museum is doing a special on burial and internment and how it differs with different cultures. That’s why the tour goes through the graveyard and catacombs. Plus, America doesn’t have anything like this. At least not on the same age scale. I, uhm… I wanted to go see the Paris catacombs. I think it’s really humbling to see something like all the skulls in the walls and know how long people have been around. And it doesn’t seem any less grotesque than going to places like the great wall, you know? I mean they buried people in that too and you’re actually walking on them and people don’t seem to think about it but I like it because it reminds you that you’re alive? Kinda? Mum thinks I’m obsessed with death since-- since-- uhm-- anyhow I think cemeteries and stuff are really nice because I feel like tombstones and the way someone is buried actually shows more about how they lived and were loved than anything else. Some tombstones have really nice things on them and to see a… uhm...”

Arawn paused, realizing that he’d been rambling and pulled his arm loose to cross them over his chest as he hunched. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go on.”

“No, no. I think it’s really interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at cemeteries that way before. What were you going to say about tombstones?”

“I…” Arawn’s voice came out a squeaky pitch and he cleared his throat before trying again, “I just think it’s really interesting. Like a lot of burial is about status but when you walk through a graveyard or a catacomb and particularly when you see the exposed bodies I feel like it gives someone who wasn’t very important a chance to be remembered. And there is a lot of beauty in death--- I mean, not in the way that people think-- but life… and people… they have a lot of restrictions. And then there’s dirt which is cool too. Because after a while bodies just become dirt and we’re walking on dinosaurs and other planets at this point because particles come down from space and the bodies have eroded into the soil or been absorbed into the ….water… Sorry, I, uhm-- I read a lot…”

“Fascinating,” Arthur said coming to stand nearby. “And you think some of the dirt is from space?”

“I-- it’s…” Arawn came to a stop as they reached the doors to the museum and twisted at his hoodie sleeve as he said, “It, uhm. ...My uncle used to work for the space program, NASA. He used to bring books about space and stuff. A lot of people think that meteors are all we get from space but a lot more is just not seen as it gets added to our atmosphere and drifts down slower. It’s like skin cells but from space. And we also shed skin cells so in a way when we travel we always leave a piece of ourselves where we go. I think the gravitational pull of our planet keeps it all from going off the planet though.”

As Bill opened the museum door and ushered everyone in Arthur said, “Your uncle seems like a very interesting man.”

“Mhmm. He was.” Arawn hummed distractedly as he stepped into the building and took a moment to simply take it all in. The place was magnificent. They had done a lot of decorations for each of the areas and it seemed like they might just have burial exhibits from all over the world.

He started to wander towards one when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Bill flashed him a smile before he turned to his parents, “How about you two wander for a while. I’ll stay with Arawn and we’ll go on the lower tour when we’ve had our fill.” With the family waved away, Bill gestured ahead, “shall we?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will hopefully be released on the 25th (Christmas for some.) and though today is a day early (12-21-19) Happy Chanukah - Hanukkah, I hope this last month of the year comes with good news and happy evenings no matter what holiday you celebrate. Stay safe out there folks! Love y'all! (And hope you enjoy!)
> 
> As a warning this chapter has some blood mention (small wounds) and abuse mention. (I know I tagged it but I just don't want to catch someone by surprise)

* * *

  
  
(Image is my artwork. Please do not use or post elsewhere.)  
  


* * *

They wandered the museum for over an hour. If Arawn and Arthur had been allowed to choose, they might have wandered longer but the tour guide gave the warning that they were going to start the last tour soon and that was all the decision that Arawn needed as he put away his sketchbook.

“I couldn’t help but notice your drawings,” Bill said with a smile as they followed the guide into the lower levels.

Arawn absently tugged at his backpack strap. “Uh… yeah. My uncle and I liked graphic novels. Comics. I kinda wanted to be a comic artist.”

“And you don’t want to anymore?”

“No. It just… doesn’t feel the same. I keep drawing because I get an extra grade if I include some pictures but I always feel kinda sad when I draw now. And I like drawing sometimes but I don’t want to _always_ do it like for work.”

“So how exactly do mug-- I mean American, ah, schools work, exactly?” Arthur asked, dropping back to walk with them.

The tour guide was rambling about the age of the structure but it wasn’t anything Arawn hadn’t already read, so he slowed till they were at the back of the group as he took the time to look around and answer. “It depends on where you are. I know our system is different from other countries and I homeschool so I’m not like other kids too. What my mom lets me do is I get to stay home and read whatever I want as long as I have enough book reports, essays, and math pages to make the supervisor happy when we go in for evaluation once a month. -- oh, the stone work on that one is nice. I like the way the petals look.”

“It is nice. I wonder how they made it.”

“Old granite ones like this were usually carved by hand using special tools. The more modern ones use rotary bits and then sandblast it smooth but you can’t get stuff like this. Not a lot of stone masons anymore really. If you think this is cool you should go to see the David. I’ve heard it’s amazing but, honestly, most older marble statues are impressive to see. They carve it into the stone and can’t mess up or it’s ruined. I’ve always wanted to try maybe wood carving because it seems similar enough but not as unforgiving as stone.”

“ _Fascinating_ ,” Arthur said and for once Arawn thought the man meant it when most adults didn’t.

They chatted lightly as the tour went on-- only falling silent on the rare occasion that the tour guide started to say something that Arawn hadn’t already read-- but eventually it started to come to an end. They were wandering about the giftshop when Arawn overheard Bill softly talking to his father.

“You know, we could always go out to dinner. In Diagon.”

“Are you quite mad?” Molly asked, obviously having overheard as well. “The child is--”

“Magic. He’s seen the Knight Bus and quite a few other things that Muggles can’t see.”

“But their mother…?”

“Muggle. But think about it dad, you could see first hand how a muggle-raised reacts to magic. And I’ll buy dinner. We can go to that restaurant that you proposed in. My treat.”

“Oh… I don’t know. That place is a little expensive…”

“Arthur, we’re talking about exposing the child to-- mmmhm-- and the only thing you can think about is the price of the food-- and Bill, dear, it really _is_ too expensive. We’ve had a lovely night already, you don’t have to do that.”

Arawn edged around the corner and into view. “I can pay for myself if you want. I mean… if you don’t mind. Mum just brings me her leftovers cause she’s on a diet and her boss buys for her so its cheaper … I mean… if you don’t mind…”

They all stood frozen there, awkward faces and guilty looks before Arthur leaned over and whispered in a voice that was still a little too loud, “I am technically authorized to use a memory spell.”

Molly looked torn between wanting to cave and wanting to turn and be furious as her husband so Arawn forced a small smile as he tried to diffuse any fight that they might have. “Uhm, I guess let me just buy these--” he held up the couple of trinkets he’d picked out-- “for my brother and dad and I’ll be ready to head back to the hotel.”

He heard the exhale of Molly’s decision as he turned away and she said, “Arthur Weasley, don’t make me regret this. Arawn, dear, if you wanted to go out to dinner…”

Arawn turned, hugging the items to his chest. “Can we? I’ll be good. And I’ll pay for myself. I don’t eat a lot anyhow.”

“Oh, you lamb,” Molly mumbled as she hugged him and then spun him back towards the counter, “Of course we can. Go buy your things.”

He heard her mumble about leftovers and parents as he paid. When he finished, he brought one of the items over to the tour guide who looked like she was clocking out as she chatted to one of the others at the counter.

“Miss?” Arawn called to get her attention.

She leaned onto the counter, a bright smile on her face. “Well if it isn’t the talker. Hello, how can I help you?”

“Uhm, earlier when we passed the different markers you said your favourite one was the fleur,” Arawn said offering up one of the little bags, “I just wanted to say I really liked listening to you today. I know I talked a lot but I thought it was cool and I didn’t know that thing about them using iron in the victorian era. So I got you this cause my uncle used to say that sometimes even when we like something we forget because we have to do it so often.”

“Oh. Well-- I-- I don’t think--”

Before she could refuse it, Arawn backed up with a wave. “Have a nice night! Thank you for the tour!”

He darted outside to wait for them as he tucked his other purchases into his backpack and Bill meandered over to him with a smile. “Not sure she’s into guys your age stud.”

Arawn grimaced. “Not why I did it. … I just… people forget why they love things sometimes because they do it so often or it becomes their job and they forget why they want to do it. My uncle used to say that it was good to have reminders. I think it’s nice, you know, to help someone remember why they love something? Like, it makes it that much more special especially if it’s something you like...too…”

Fading off, Arawn stared at one of the nearby tombstones shaped like an elaborate long urn. He could have sworn he heard it caw and just when he was going to ask if the others had heard it, he heard the distressed and dry croak of a mewl from the broken vase shape again. Arawn circled the stone, reading it before he edged forward until he could peek into the vase and came face to face with a pair of dark tiny eyes that seemed to be attached to a lot of teeth and more ear than seemed proportionate. The kitten inside only held to the edge for a moment more before sliding back down the inside in a mad scratching scrabble that ended in a pitiful and equally scratchy meow.

When it jumped next, Arawn caught it, hauled it up, and set it gently down on the grass. In the short period that it was held, the kitten managed to do a rather decent amount of damage with claws and teeth alike, but once it was one the ground it didn’t seem to know what to do. It stood there with splayed legs as Arawn pulled off his bag and dug in it for his water bottle. He filled the cap with water and set it down for the kitten before using some of the liquid to wash off his bleeding hand.

“Oh, Arawn, oh dear,” Molly started to fuss, “you should have let it alone. Look at your poor hand, oh--”

“It’s fine, Mrs Weasley,” Arawn said softly as he pulled out a scarf, “I know mama will be mad but it’s just flesh. It grows back. Some things are more important than comfort.”

Bill squatted nearby and earned a brave little hiss from the ball of wrinkly skin and massive ears that looked more gremlin than a cat. It took a swipe at him before returning to its examination of the water in the cap. As he tilted his head and looked over the creature he asked, “You like cats?”

“Yeah. You know Egyptians used to worship them? Some pharaohs even had their cats buried with them. They had a god based on cats too. Mafdet but she was later turned into Bast. They would mummify cats and kittens as offerings but I always thought that was a little weird because if you harmed a cat there were pretty strict punishments but there they were, mummifying cats and not always waiting for them to be dead first.”

Arawn offered out a finger for the cat to sniff as he spoke down to it in a soft coo. “That what someone tried to do to you? Or did you fall in on your own?”

The kitten swiped and left a fresh bleeding trail on Arawn’s hand but when he didn’t flinch or move, the kitten moved in for a sniff.

“Mean little thing isn’t it?” Bill asked, keeping a safe distance.

Arawn nudged his hand forward, bopping the beast on the nose and earning a small warbling growl before it promptly sat to wash as if it was now ignoring them. “No. He was just scared. ...we all get scared or lash out unintentionally sometimes. People yell and don’t always mean what they say. He just yells with his claws.”

Molly edged over and squatted nearby as she took Arawn’s hand for a look. “Well, wise as that is, it doesn’t stop the bleeding dear. I--”

“I’m okay. Really. And I’ve got bandaids. Uhm, we can still go to dinner right?”

Once again the group all did that silent expression thing until Arthur asked, “What’s a bandaid?”

“Uh-- a-- the strip with the gauze and the sticky bits?” Arawn paused before using his one uninjured hand to pull one out. He bit the paper open with the ease of practice and put the bandage over one of the marks as he said, “Do they have another name here?”

“Oh, that is _**marvellous**_. So what does a bandaid---ooofff--”

Arthur cut off in a wheeze as Molly elbowed him. She scowled at the bandaid and used some of her skirt to dab at the other parts of the wound as she tutted. “Oh, this one here looks deep. We really should get him to the hospital…” Her voice dropped to a mutter, “and then I suppose a memory charm… oh dear…”

Arawn tugged his hand back, already trying to put another bandage over it as he said, “No. Please. If we go to a hospital my mom will know. I can probably hide it--”

“Nonsense dear, you’re in our care. I won’t hear it. We’ll get this taken care of, don’t you fret.”

As she wrapped a spare scarf around his hand and they startled to bustle him towards the street, he tried very hard not to cry and began to rapidly fail when the panic set in. It all fell apart really when he noticed that the kitten was following him. He tugged himself from Molly’s grip and squatted down at the cat as he said, “Y-you can’t c-come. Mama’s gonna be mad enough ab-b-out my hand.”

“MEEW.”

“I got you out. You need to go back to where you came from.”

“MEEW,” It demanded loudly with its tail pointing at the sky as it screamed. “MEEeeEW.”

Arawn held out his hand again, sniffling. “Stupid.”

Instead of just sniffing it, the kitten climbed with angry determination up his sleeve to his face where it made its demands known. “MEW.”

Trying to hide his tears, Arawn wiped at his face before turning back towards the watching adults. “Uhm…”

“It can come with us,” Molly said pulling a stick from her skirt and stepping out into the street as she held it out. “Come on. All of you.”

She stepped aside with the ease of a woman who had been dodging toddlers for an alarming amount of time just as a three-story high purple bus pulled up quite suddenly to the curb. It stopped with an abruptness that made everyone that Arawn could see inside go sliding as a thin man hopped out and adjusted a rather fancy looking jacket.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport--”

“Yes yes, dear, I’m afraid we need a drop off at the hospital,” Molly interrupted, ushering them all on. “We’ve got an injury. Too young to apparate.”

Bill and Arthur both paused at the door before stepping back off and Bill said, “Mum, we’ll apparate and meet you there. No sense in having to buy tickets for all of us.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense--”

“It’s fine mum,” Bill said as he pulled out the money and slipped it to the conductor, “Here Stan. Nice to see you. Can you make them a priority stop? It’s not bleeding too bad but mum tends to fuss.”

“Course, Bill. Evenin,” Stan said with a nod before turning to Molly, “That’ll be just the two of you then? Well ‘op on and we’ll get yeh there right quick.”

Arawn found himself ushered to one of the seats at the front-- and thankfully not one of the beds that went rolling around as the bus hopped to life-- and Molly began fussing over his hand. “You are such a brave boy, tsk, this is rather deep-- ooooh and it’s bleeding--”

“Ah. Looks a right nasty one dunnit,” Stan said, leaning over to look. “Wot gocha?”

Arawn, distracted with the fact that the location was rather rapidly changing outside the bus window, mumbled as he pointed to the kitten who had now made the hood of his hoodie into a nest where it curled like a viper waiting to strike at its next unfortunate victim. When Molly tutted again, Arawn finally turned his gaze away from the window as he said, “It’s fine, Mrs Weasley. Mum hits harder and there are snakes more dangerous at home. With cats all you have to worry about is infection but I washed it right away. I’m really ok. ...I--” he couldn’t help it as a sniffle escaped-- “I don’t know if I have enough saved for a hospital and mum will be mad if she has to use her own money. I promised to be good on this trip.”

“Oh don’t worry about the cost. Just a little wand wave and you’ll be right as-- I’m sorry dear, did you say hits?” Molly asked, going dangerously still. However, the question was lost when the bus came to a screeching stop and the doors opened to Bill and Arthur somehow already waiting out front of a building with swirling advertisements for health.

“Here ya are Bill’s mum pleasure meeting you hope your hand feels better kid,” Stand ushered them out in a stream of words that didn’t pause before he shut the bus door and the bus literally popped off with a bang.

It must have been quite an acceleration because even when Arawn leaned over to look down the street he couldn’t see it. “Do all buses drive like that here?” He asked holding his injured hand up to his chest.

“Just the good ones,” Bill said with a smile and wink as he pulled open the door. “Come on.”

As if walking to his funeral, Arawn trudged behind them into the waiting room which seemed to be chock full of the strangest things. Unlike the American waiting rooms-- which were stuffy with at least one person coughing in the corner, a lot of awkward silence, and horrible white walls-- this was both alike and terribly different.

In the corner, a man was laughing. He’d start a mad cackle that rose in a fevered hyena-like pitch until the nurse standing near him shoved a little vial under his nose and he’d calm down. Another man seemed to have his head stuck in a goldfish bowl-- with the goldfish still swimming there. The goldfish man seemed completely unperturbed by the fact that his head was in the water and every so often little bubbles would drift up from his mouth as he read a newspaper with moving pictures.

Busy as he was with staring at some of the patients, Arawn didn’t notice when Molly stopped at the counter and bounced off her and nearly onto the floor. While he didn’t mind the jolt, the kitten did, and the little beast bit ferociously at his ear in repayment.

“Ah-ah-ahssssss,” Arawn grimaced and hissed his pain as he reached up and gave the little demon something else to bite. Obligingly it momentarily latched onto his hand with a halfhearted growl before retreating to its nest in the hood.

When Arawn next looked up, it was into a hoard of concerned adult faces and one of the nurses came over to tilt his head. “Oh dear. Well, that doesn’t look too bad. Brave lad, not even a tear. We can have you fixed up in a jiffy.”

He shot one more pleading look towards Molly, hoping she’d understand the kind of trouble he’d be in if he came back with a hospital bill, yet the effort seemed to be wasted as they were all ushered into a room and the door closed with a-- “have a nurse with you in a moment.”

“You know,” Arthur said in a soft aside to Molly, twiddling his thumbs as he rocked back on his heels, “M’not entirely sure it’s all cat.”

“You might be right dear, little beast is vicious.” She whispered back. “Do you think it’s an illegal kneazle? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one without fur before...”

Arawn focused on a spot of the floor-- which appeared to be stone and not laminate like American hospitals-- and said softly, “I think it’s a hairless cat. They started to get popular in the sixties. ….I think they look cool. They get cold easy though because they don’t have the fur to regulate their body temperature so he’s probably just happy to be warm even if we’re bigger and scary.”

Whatever the conversation might have been after that was cut short when a woman popped into the room. Arawn was quite sure this time that no one had used the door and he stared at her with a puzzled frown as she took his hand and began tutting and chatting with the Weasleys. After awhile, he decided that it was blood loss-- though he didn’t think he’d been bleeding that bad. His dad had taken him along to a CPR and First Aid class once and he knew blood loss could make funny things happen. Or maybe it was shock? Then again the two usually come together.

However, that theory went out the proverbial door when she took out a stick like Molly’s. She waved it over his hand and then there was a curious sensation as the skin slipped back to being whole and right with only a slight pinkness to betray where the marks had been. She beamed at him as she inspected his hand, “And there we are. Good as new. Oh, right, right the ear.”

Arawn watched her like his mother’s horses would watch a loose plastic bag. With only mildly bugging eyes, he tried to keep her in his field of vision as his head was tipped, the stick tapped just above his ear, and suddenly the smarting pain from that side was gone. Another flick had the blood cleaned up and she was nice enough to even go over Molly’s skirt and scarf too. Arawn stayed quiet after that, watching the woman warily and politely accepting the offered lollipop before they were all ushered back out on the street-- which was, incidentally, a completely different street that the one they’d come in on even though he was _sure_ that it was the same door they’d entered.

“Right-- now dear, still feel like dinner?” Molly asked, her hand on Arawn’s shoulders for only a moment before she had to pull away from the growling kitten. “Or shall we get you back to your mum?”

Arawn twisted the lolly in his hands, frowning at the street. “I’d rather dinner. Mum is usually busy with a private meeting with her boss right now anyhow.”

“Private meetings-- oh dear.” Molly took his hand and patted it as they started walking. “Alright. To dinner then. Are you feeling alright dear? You’ve gone a bit quiet…”

Arawn glanced up just in time to see Molly and Bill having a vicious looking silent argument before they snapped back to looking normal before he asked, “Is magic normal here? In Europe?”

“I-- uhm…” Bill cleared his throat and gave a sheepish grin, “Wizards and Witches tend to keep it hidden but they’re all over the world.”

“Oh. ...do they have a lot of hospitals like that?”

“We just have the one here in London but as you can see, it's got a few different entry spots.”

“Oh.”

Bill came to walk backwards in front as he said, “You don’t seem very excited about that.”

Arawn glanced up briefly only to firmly plant his view back on the ground as he said, “Mum says I like to make things up for attention and Mr Sterling says that bad kids see the world wrong. I’m trying to be good right now because I-- I think maybe I’m seeing… things… wrong.”

The group came to a stop rather abruptly and Bill squatted down with a very serious expression. “Do they not have stories about magic in America?”

“Magic is for liars,” Arawn said softly, his breath hitching. “Lying is the devil’s favorite toy and mum hates liars. I’m not to lie or I’ll get in trouble. I promised I’d be good. She only let me come on the trip because I’ve been good.”

Bill looked down and took a deep breath. When he looked back up he asked, “Would you feel better if you forgot tonight? If you forgot seeing magic?”

Arawn couldn’t meet his eyes and stared into the darkness of the street beyond the waves of Bill’s red ponytail as his breath hitched. He knew he was crying-- it’s what crybabies and girls did and no matter what he told people, he ended up being both. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he spoke softly, “I’d rather remember. I know it’s bad but I’d rather remember.”

“Ooooh lamb,” Molly said squeezing his freshly healed hand as she knelt beside as well, “I’d hug you if that wee devil weren’t in your hood.” She used an expert thumb to wipe at his cheek as she continued, “Now this rubbish about you being bad-- that’s just rubbish-- I don’t-- How about this, I want you to have fun tonight. Whether you remember or not, I want you to just have fun, okay?”

Arawn nodded mutely. He always tried to be good for adults and he knew well enough how to at least pretend like he was having fun. Of course, it helped that after that he did have a rather fantastic time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (12-26-2019) Pretty sure its the first day of Kwanzaa for some folks so Happy Kwanzaa. )
> 
> Anyhow warnings for this chapter are-- _abuse and hitting mention within the first portion along with misgendering._ (I try to keep it from being too much of a focus and move the scene along quickly. Promise. As usual, I don't want this to adversely affect anyone so if you feel it might bother you please, please, please read at your own discretion. If anyone else has a family like this-- I know what it's like. It's rough. Take care of yourselves!♥)

* * *

Arawn was still reeling from the wonders of Diagon Alley when they got back to the hotel. He’d had an absolute blast. They’d seen sweet shops and owls that he’d sketched to show his brother. People selling brooms that could actually _fly_. There were even goblins at the bank that Bill took him to. The food they’d had was amazing-- some of it had even floated!-- and Bill had gotten him some chocolate shaped like a frog-- but assuredly not an actual frog-- that hopped! It was all absolutely and completely fantastic.

When he got back though, he hid the kitten near the back of the hotel. Once it was tucked into a warm nest of his scarf and a couple of boxes to block the wind, he changed into his skirt, let down his hair and got out his sketchbook to prepare himself to only talk about the tour. He knew his mom hated the crypts and skeletons so he peeked at his notes for what cultures they’d seen stuff on and what he thought might be safe to talk about. His mom was waiting in the lobby, nibbling some sort of fruit and chatting with the others still up.

“Hi honey,” She greeted as he bounced over. “Did you have a good time?”

Arawn held out his sketchbook. “I did. The tour was really cool and I took notes. They had displays on--”

“That’s nice hun. Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, mama. And I still have savings left.”

“Ok. Why don’t you go and get washed up and ready for bed then. Brush your teeth. Do you need help with your hair?”

Arawn shook his head and headed off, already coming down from the high of the evening.

~O~

Bill hung off to the side with his father as Molly gave a rather rigid smile to Mrs Ranklin who was saying, “Thanks for putting up with her I know she’s a bit of a handful.”

“Oh I’ve got seven-- Bill’s my oldest-- and I don’t think any of them are as well behaved. It was a pleasure, really.” Molly answered back, her smile a little more forced than usual.

“Really?” Mrs Ranklin sat back down and gestured at the nearby chair as if to invite them to sit, “I keep thinking it’s her age but she’s been rather hard to deal with since her uncle died last year. Well, she was difficult before, with him encouraging her nonsense. Thankfully that’s not an issue anymore.”

Bill could see the rigidness to his mother’s smile increase-- like a kettle building steam-- as she asked, “Oh? Were they close?”

“Yes, unfortunately. The therapist thinks that he was a bad influence on her, encouraging her to pretend she was a boy and sending her all those comic books. I let her keep drawing-- afterall, art runs in the family and it's good to have hobbies-- but the daydreams about being a comic artist astronaut or whatever nonsense-- well, we’re working on getting her to keep realistic goals.”

Sensing that the proverbial kettle was about to blow its lid, Bill eased forward to stand beside his mother as he offered out his hand. “Well, goodnight, Mrs Rranklin. We’ll let you get back to your evening. Thank you for letting us watch Brainiac for a while. Mum, dad, best we get going home, right?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, nearly pulling Molly from the chair that she was rather harshly gripping. He gave a strained laugh as he said, “It was lovely. Arawn is a lovely child. Told us all about band-aids and space h-- she did.”

Bill saw the moment-- like blood in the water near a shark-- that the friendly smile on Mrs Ranklin’s face turned a little dangerous. She stood, straightening her business suit. “Arawn? I see. If you’ll excuse me. Goodnight.”

She marched, straight-backed and slow up the stairs and Bill felt with every step that someone had dropped a new stone in his stomach. When she disappeared from view his father hummed a soft, “Oh dear.”

“We should go. Now.” Bill said, trying to usher them out.

They made it to the side of the building when they heard the slap from the room above them. It rang out through the open window and Bill winced.

“How DARE you. You little lying--”

“Wh-- I’m sorry, momma! Please--” The crack of a slap cut Arawn's plead short.

The argument broke out in earnest overhead and Bill winced with each hit he could hear as his mother muttered vehemently. “Oh, that _ghastly_ woman. She doesn’t deserve that poor child.”

Bill winced again as more audible strikes-- now with something like a belt-- rang out along with sobbing as he tried to herd his parents away. He’d just wanted to do something nice for Arawn. Everyone at the hotel liked Arawn--they all said he was the most well-behaved child they’d ever met and he hated that he knew why. Kids like that should play and have fun--- not fear their every word and move. Eventually, they made their way out of hearing range and he was able to breathe a mild sigh of relief. Or perhaps regret. Upon reflection he knew it was definitely regret.

“Oh that dear boy,” Molly muttered, dusting herself angrily, “I’ve half a mind to--”

“Now now dear,” Arthur patted her arm and gave her a light hug. “You know that would only just make it worse with them being foreign muggles. How about we head home for now, make sure the kids haven’t turned the house upside down and have a nice cuppa? It is still our anniversary after all. Bill? Will you be stopping by?”

Bill nodded after glancing back towards the hotel. “Yeah. Tomorrow is my last day before heading back to Egypt for Gringotts. I was planning on visiting anyhow.”

“Good. Good.” Arthur said absently, patting Molly’s arm as he too glanced back.

Bill also had ‘half a mind to’ and he wanted to go back to the bloody hotel, put a memory charm on Arawn’s hag of a mother, and then whisk the kid away to safety. No doubt that wouldn’t go over well though. With anyone-- including the ministry.

Those thoughts sat with him as they all apparated off to the Burrow. Yet it was hard to be sombre at the Burrow. Almost as soon as they arrived he was swarmed by his siblings as they welcomed him back and asked about if he’d seen anything cool at work lately. Surrounded by family, it was hard not to smile and fall into the loud joy that was the Weasley household. Yet there were a few moments-- and he could see it on his parent’s faces too-- when they would pause and think of Arawn.

Bill was in the kitchen, helping do the last of the night’s dishes by hand when Molly said, “You’re a good boy. I’m proud of you, you know that, right?”

Bill bumped his mum’s shoulder with a grin. “I think you’ve said it once or twice but it’s nice to hear, mum. Thanks.”

She set down the drying rag though the pot scrubbers still idled to her left as she sighed. “I wish we could have done more for him. Just… seems so wrong to leave him.”

“Yeah,” he stared down at the wooden plate he’d been drying. “You’ll talk to dad right? I know he’ll blame himself for that slip. I should have warned you a little better--”

“Oh, don’t you dare think any of this was anyone’s fault. Well, anyone but that horrible woman. Ugh. Think I’ve met death eaters with more heart than that-- that…”

She fell silent and Bill gave her a one-armed hug. “Don’t worry, mum. I’ll check on him tomorrow. He’ll be okay. He’s a strong kid.”

Molly chuckled as she pulled away. “I suppose we should just be glad he didn’t think to ask us to take care of that wee beast he found.”

“Yeah. Can you imagine it running around here? Actually… I think it’s vicious enough to help with de-gnoming.”

They laughed and finished up cleaning before he kissed his mum’s cheek and headed to his old room. Bill went to bed that night thinking about the day. It had certainly had its ups and downs-- and ultimately ending the day with his family was more good than bad-- but he couldn’t help thinking that the poor kid wouldn’t have had the same balm to their evening.

That morning he stopped by his favourite muggle bakery and picked up a few things before apparating to a nice walking distance from the hotel. As he walked, he planned how he would sneak some of the baked goods up to Arawn to make sure the boy was okay and had something to eat. Things did not go according to plan however when he came around the corner and saw the muggle police milling about outside with the owner and none other than Mrs Rranklin.

Bill trotted up, all earlier plans forgotten as he nudged the elbow of the resident cook, Kristof, who happened to be one of the other wizards who worked there between assignments. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Ay.” Kristof greeted. He flicked his thumb over the cig in his hand as he nodded towards the crowd. “Muggle’s kid from 6B ran off. Serves the cow right.”

“Arawn?”

“Ay.”

Bill hung around after that for only as long as he needed to. The muggle police took a few statements from the staff-- since Mrs Ranklin was _sure_ Arawn was kidnapped and would never have left willingly-- and then wandered off. There was every intention to find the child-- Bill was sure-- but Mrs Ranklin was waving around a picture of a little girl with perfectly styled curly hair and a flowery dress. Arawn had admitted once that he didn’t mind the dresses so much but he did mind how he had to pretend to be someone else. Still, Bill didn’t think Arawn would be wearing a dress and the cops definitely wouldn’t be looking for a little boy.

His first stop-- after talking to the hotel owner and accepting his last paycheck a little early-- was at the back of the hotel to drop off some of the meat scraps from breakfast at the Barrow. However, when he got there, the kitten was gone. Wondering if Arawn perhaps took the little demon with him or if it wandered off on its own, he headed off with his next task of speaking with his parents.

~~

Arawn curled tightly just off the side of a shop called Madam Malkin’s. From his hood came an indignant muttering growl when he bumped the wall but thankfully the kitten didn’t see it as another opportunity to bite him. The kitten had actually been fairly well behaved once he'd helped it back into his hood. With the kitten with him, he'd spent all morning hitting separate ATMs to withdraw all his savings. Afterwards, he’d somehow managed to sneak through the pub and then through the magic door-- right into the only place he was fairly sure his mum and hopefully the police couldn’t look for him.

It was still early, so the full bustle of the previous night hadn’t started up, but there were people about doing whatever wizard people do and he had to be very careful not to get trod on as he moved about. When a group of people walked by, he slipped behind them and followed until they broke away and into a shop. When they went through the shop’s door, he returned to hiding near the wall. The whole place seemed so much bigger than he remembered-- even with fewer people in it-- and he hated to admit it but he was starting to get lost rather quickly. That being said, he knew that what he needed first was to get to the bank.

If he could get to the bank then he could get some of his money changed to the wizard money he’d seen Molly and Bill use. At least, he hoped he could. Bill had told him how one could exchange all types of money there at Gringotts and that it was the wizarding world’s main bank. If he could change his money over then maybe he could get breakfast and one of the magic wands he’d seen Molly use. If he could get a wand then perhaps, just perhaps, he could get the magic bus that only magic people could see and get them to take him as far as they’d go.

Group after group he’d fall into the little crowd and follow behind, clutching his backpack and trying to keep an eye out for the weirdly crooked building he remembered. When he reached a dark alley with an ominous sign reading Knockturn Alley he was pretty sure that he’d gone too far. Turning around, he squared his shoulders and prepared to try again.

Just past noon, Arawn still hadn’t found the bank. He sat miserably in a corner outside an ice cream shop wishing he could go in or that he’d at least tried to buy food with his non-magical money before sneaking through the pub. There was some comfort in the fact that the kitten was at least happy as it licked at a puddle of someone’s dropped ice cream. Once it had its fill-- though still licking the cream from its chops-- the kitten crawled into his lap and he stroked it absently while he tried not to brood.

Wizards seemed to have a lot of cool things-- except sensible roads, but that might have been a European thing. Yet as he stared at the window filled with fancy brooms promising fast flight, his thoughts strayed back to the motorcycle crash that took his uncle’s life and his stomach gave a bitter twist. If there had been hospitals like the wizard one, perhaps his uncle wouldn’t have died. With a huff, he looked away from the brooms only to see the bank was within view.

There is was, towering over the other buildings and he wondered just how he’d missed it. No one seemed to pay him any attention as he kept his eyes on it and desperately pushed through the throngs to make it to the big doors. Once inside, he heaved a relieved sigh only to have it cut short when he realized that all the goblins were staring at him. He glanced around, looking for the one he’d been introduced to, Chaplin, and upon spotting the grumpy frown he made a beeline.

“Uhm, Hi, Chaplin?”

The goblin looked up at him. “Yes?”

“I, uhm, we met. Last night.”

“Uh-huh.” The goblin finally paused his counting and folded his long, gnarled fingers as he leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “You’re the boy visiting from America?”

“Yessir. I’m sorry to bother you, but do you know if they exchange, uhm, American and other non-magic money here? And, uhm, if they did, where I go to do that?”

Chaplin leaned forward, his beady eyes narrowing. “Two desks down. The one marked _exchange_.”

“Oh. ...Thank you.” Arawn took a step back before giving a small wave. “It was nice to see you again. Have a good day.”

The goblins expression was what some might call peculiar as he watched Arawn back away and skuttle to the exchange desk. He was hoping to exchange some of the money he’d pulled from the ATM early that morning but as he stepped into line a hand fell on his shoulder. Arawn jumped away, ready to put up a fight. The jumpy urge drained when he saw that it was Bill standing there with Mrs Weasley.

“Arawn,” Bill said, his face solemn.

He gulped. Hugging his bag closer to his chest, all hopes of getting away from his mum evaporating. Replacing the hope was a numb twisting feeling in his gut that made him very glad he hadn't eaten yet. He didn’t know what to say. For months now he’d planned this. Perhaps not _this_ exactly since magic wasn’t supposed to be real but he’d been saving and putting away the money from all the little jobs and chores. He’d even saved everything he earned from raising the pig in 4-H after paying his mother back for what he'd spent raising it and he’d somehow convinced his mum that the savings were for college. Now… if he went back then she’d know. She’d take all the money and he’d start having more sessions with Mr Sterling. He’d do anything not to have another session with Mr Sterling.

Bill, who was taller even than most adults, squatted down. “Have you eaten?”

Arawn shook his head.

“Want to?”

“Please. Don’t make me go back,” Arawn whispered desperately. “I--I can p-pay you. I’ve been s-sss-ssaving.” Taking a deep breath he tried to hold back both the stutter and the sob. He could feel his fingers cramping-- his knuckles white where they gripped his bag as he softly asked, “Please.”

Bill looked around as he straightened and Arawn was tugged, along with Mrs Weasley into a back room where Bill waved at some of the goblins before squatting back down to be eye level with Arawn. “What if, I told you that you don’t have to go back?”

“William Weasley!” Molly hissed before Bill cut her off with a shake of his head.

“Mum. We _can’t_ send him back. You met her.”

“We can’t just go around stealing children because their parents are ghastly, evil--”

“Then j-just let me go. If I can get to the bus then you never have to see me again.” Arawn said, desperately. “Please.”

Bill looked at his mother. “ _Mum_.”

She huffed and sat in a nearby chair, the action revealing that hiding behind her skirts had been a little red-headed child who skittered around to hide once more behind her mother's chair. “Just wait until your father hears about this. Oh, damn. Why did I have to raise you so well?”

“Dad is the one who gave me the idea,” Bill said, crossing his arms as he stood to face her. “Said he’d even put in extra time at the office to make up for it. I'll even send you extra from my savings as well.”

“Well extra time at the office won't let him escape this-- this--”

They continued to bicker. Back and forth it went and Arawn realized that they were no longer so focused on him as he began to back towards the door only to freeze when the little girl's hand grabbed his. 

"Wait," she whispered, in a surprisingly stern tone.

Obligingly, and rather fearfully, Arawn stilled. He hugged his bag tighter with his free arm and dropped his gaze down to the floor as his fear ran rampant little circles in his head. They were going to take him back. There was no way they weren’t. As his mind chased itself like a dog after it's own tail, Bill turned toward him and the tired lines around his eyes eased with a smile as he asked, “Let me take you to lunch?”

With no answer, they must have assumed it was a yes because Arawn found himself soon sitting in a little sandwich shop that was somewhat cleverly named ‘The Sand Witches Shop’ and it seemed to be themed around boats. Or boat wrecks. Maybe singing about boat wrecks? He wasn’t quite sure.

They sat in relative silence and he picked at his food until Bill said, “Please, mum?”

“Well, alright.” Molly sighed. “But it means your room.”

Bill positively beamed as he said, “Excellent.”

Unsure what had just transpired, Arawn’s gaze flicked between them. He was still pretty sure that if he waited for just the right moment that he could make it through the door and out into the street before someone could catch him. He’d always been fast. In fact, back when he was in school he’d been the second fastest in his class as long at it was a short race. However, he was using this opportunity to sneak pieces of fish from his sandwich to the kitten in his hood and the little pig felt more important than his need to bolt. Plus, he wasn't sure what the kitten would do if he ran and jostled it. Nor was he exactly eager to find out.

Molly straightened her napkin before she fixed Arawn with her unwavering gaze. “Arawn, how would you like to live with us?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the year didn't exactly start great for me but hopefully, it's better for all of you. :)

Arawn was quiet through the entire bus ride. Part of it was because now that it was still daylight and he could SEE out the windows he could see that every time the bus lurched-- so did the location. It didn’t seem to have any real reason or rhyme but suddenly they would take a left and be travelling down a country road at breakneck speeds only to hit a bump and suddenly be back in the city. He was a little afraid that maybe he had made things up. That he’d started lying to himself and believed it. That he’d gone crazy like everyone seemed to think. That none of it was real and he might wake up. Worse, that he might wake up somewhere like Mr Sterling’s office. To be honest, he was hoping that even if it wasn’t real he’d never wake up. He’d rather be crazy.

The other reason for not speaking was because with every hop the bus made he was starting to feel a little queasy. Previously he could have said that he _NEVER_ got carsick. He didn’t even get sick on the spinning rides at the fair. Yet here he was feeling more than a little ill. It would probably be best if he didn’t get sick on the others lest they decide that he was no longer welcome. Moreso because Ginny, the girl who’d been hiding, was now sitting beside him with his hand once more locked firmly in hers. Bill was on the other side, chatting with Stan. Molly was actually knitting. How she was knitting as the bus made a wild hopping lurch that sent nearly everyone flying-- Arawn didn’t know.

The lurch had taken them to a lovely country road-- the kind that made him anxious and almost a little homesick-- where they came to an abrupt stop as Stan opened the doors, “Weasley stop.”

“That’s us. Come along,” Molly said, hurrying them along as she tucked her knitting into one of the many hidden pockets of her skirt. “Watch your step Arawn dear that last one’s a bit tricky-- there you go.”

Stepping off the bus was like stepping back onto the old dirt road of the house his family had sold in the divorce. Thinking about that old home also reminded him that he’d forgotten to mail the presents that he’d gotten and he internally vowed to try and do it later. The thing that wasn’t like his old home though was the house itself. It was a wonderful five-story thing that didn’t look like it should actually be standing at all. It was a hodgepodge of last-minute additions that were propped up haphazardly like someone had made a treehouse into both a tree and an actual house.

He stood there, looking up at it and clutching the straps to his backpack, when Bill came to stand beside him. “And this is it. The Burrow. It’s not much to look at but it’s home.”

“It’s awesome,” Arawn said, tipping his head back to watch the top that seemed to sway as he stared. “It stays up by magic?”

“Probably. I never thought about it. You okay around chickens?” Bill asked, opening the front gate and nudging aside a rooster wearing trousers.

Arawn nodded, spotting a few faces in the windows as he edged through the gate and followed meekly behind Ginny as she lead him in. Over the years he’d learned how to put on a brave face when meeting people but there was a reason he’d enjoyed the switch from public to homeschool-- you didn’t have to deal with people. Yet, here it was looking like not dealing with people wasn’t really an option as the door opened and what felt like hundreds of redheaded children poured out like a gosh dang Pippi longstockings family reunion.

In the end, there were actually only four other kids-- even if each one had a personality that could fill a room. He met them all in quick succession- Fred, George, Ron, Percy. He learned that Bill was the oldest and Ginny the youngest. Ron’s friend was also staying there-- a gangly Indian boy with dark messy hair named Harry-- and they had another brother, Charlie, who wasn’t there because he worked with dragons in Romania.

Actual dragons.

“So... dragons are real?” Arawn asked as he set his backpack off to the side of the little room that was supposedly Bill and Charlie’s but now it was partly storage and maybe his? He wasn’t sure what was going on since everyone in the house seemed to like to move at a whirlwind pace.

“Yep. And a bunch of other stuff. Just a warning, Ron’s room is closer to it but you’ll still hear the ghoul in the attic.”

Arawn froze in the middle of setting down the gently growling kitten onto the far bed beside the window as he asked, “You… have a _ghoul_ ...in your _attic_?”

“Yeah. He’s harmless. Mostly he just bangs on the pipes when it’s too quiet for his liking.”

“That’s… cool. And unsettling. It doesn’t, like, eat people, right?”

“Nope. Just your normal household ghoul.” Bill paused, eyeing the kitten who’d wriggled free and was stalking around the bed in a jaunty, jerky little walk with its whiplike tail straight in the air. “Mostly they just eat bugs and pests but it might be best to keep your cat out of the attic to be safe. You think of a name?”

“Maybe,” Arawn said with a shrug as he too watched the kitten. “I was thinking Murder. Or Mischief. ...Maybe Murmur. Mortis? He seems like an ‘m’ sort of name.”

After a snort of laughter that cut short, Bill set to moving some boxes off the second bed as he asked, “Okay, I think I get the others but why Murder?”

“A group of crows is called a Murder and he kinda sounds like a crow. Kinda walks like one too. Like his legs are all stiff. ...Did you know some cultures believed that crows carried the souls of the dead to their afterlife? Then, if a crow started hanging around it was thought that the soul was too heavy with unfinished business for the crow to take.” Arawn pulled his knees up to his chest as he sat on the edge of the bed in a little patch of sunshine. “Plus, we found him in a graveyard and the inscription said- ‘ _Murdered in his prime. May he rest in peace’_ \-- but it had no name or date.”

“Huh, I never noticed that. ...he _does_ walk like a crow though, doesn’t he?” Bill mused before dusting himself with a wry smile. “I’m gonna go help mum with dinner. Feel free to come down when you’re ready.”

After Bill was gone, Arawn simply tipped sideways on the bed as he stared at the nearly luminous eyes of the kitten who in turn stared back. The day seemed so unreal. Hell, the last week felt unreal even if he’d been sort of planning it for ages. Of course, he’d never intended to enact his plan just yet. He had been thinking that he’d try to save for another year or two. Longer if he could make it. After all, as long as he behaved and pretended things were as his mother wanted them… well, things weren’t too bad. He’d also been planning on visiting his brother and father at least one more time. The best idea he had in the plan was to just hop off the train somewhere on the way back from Washington-- no one would know where he was or where along the route he left and he would have been just one more missing kid.

This was not ideal.

…. Or was it?

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure _where_ he was on a map right now but so far… Bill and his mum… well, they weren’t too bad. As people go they seemed alright. The house was cool. The magic was… he didn’t know what to think about the magic-- all he knew was that he didn’t really want to fall asleep because if he woke up and found that it was all a dream he wasn’t sure if he could take that.

Yet fall asleep is what happened anyhow. Exhaustion caught up with him and in combination with the sun on his back and a very faint pur from the cat as it perched on his head-- sleep was inevitable. He woke to a paw smooshing his eye and the type of darkness that only could be experienced in the country at night far away from light pollution. The moon had come up and it now cast a curious glow into the room so that he could see Bill’s foot just visible around the corner of the little screen between the beds.

After the kitten finished climbing up to the windowsill, Arawn sat up. Unlike the bed he’d had at the hotel, this one didn’t creek when he moved which was something he was very grateful for as Bill’s soft snores continued. Easing out of bed, Arawn fidgeted. He desperately had to use the bathroom but the tour through the house had been too quick for him to remember much and he didn’t want to risk getting in trouble for being up without permission.

Opening the door, he looked down the zig-zagging stairway. It was lit by a faint glow from somewhere below but other than that it was frightfully dark. Instead of risking the stairs creaking or missing a step and falling down them, Arawn sat on the first step and slowly made his way down one careful step at a time. He’d just made it to the second story section when one of the doors opened.

Arawn gave an alarmed squeak and ducked as he covered his head. “Sorry!”

“Uh… it’s ok?” Their reassurance sounded more like a question before they clicked on the light for the stairs and asked, “you waiting for the bathroom?”

A quick glance at and then past them revealed that they were in fact exiting the room he’d been seeking and Arawn gave a cautious nod. The dark-haired boy, Harry, stepped aside with a flash of a smile and Arawn scampered in with a softly mumbled thanks. After peeing and very thoroughly washing his hands with soap that smelled rather strongly of plums, he exited to find that Harry was still there, now talking to one of the many redheaded kids.

“Oh, hey,” the redhead said with a nod, “mum put aside some leftovers for you.”

Arawn crossed an arm across his chest as he stared at the ground. As good as that sounded, he didn’t really want to have an adult catch him up and wandering the lower section. “Uhm… that’s ok. I have some granola bars in my backpack.”

An arm was slung over his shoulders and he suddenly found himself between the twins who must have come down the stairs unheard. They both seemed to finish or continue the other’s sentence and without knowing which was who--

“Oh that’s no fun.” “Mum made biscuits--” “we were just going down too--” “Harry want some cocoa?” “Course you do.” “I know Ron does.” “Com’mon lads.”

The red-headed tide seemed to effortlessly descend down the stairs at an alarming speed with Arawn trapped in their midst. At the bottom was Molly. She sat in a little patchwork chair covered in three different multicoloured knitted throws as she knitted something that looked like it had too many armholes all while reading a book labeled “Magical Me” with a waving little man on the cover.

The moment they all descended she put the book down while floating the knitting work off to the side and she-- very surprisingly-- beamed. “Oh good, Arawn dear, I was worried you’d sleep-- no matter, I’m sure you’re starving--”

He was ushered rather efficiently over to the long bench and table combo as everyone talked in a din of noise that he struggled to keep up with. Harry took a slow and careful seat across from him and leaned forward to say, “bit mad isn’t it?”

“I…” Arawn glanced at the group of red-headed kids who were flocking around Molly much like seagulls around a picnic table, “guess?”

Harry flashed another brief smile before turning his attention to a book that Ron was sliding towards him while the redhead shoved a cookie into his mouth and spoke in an intelligible muffled spray of crumbs. No one was berated for manners though and later as Arawn headed up the stairs feeling very full and cautiously optimistic, he began-- for the first time he could remember in a long time-- to look forward to the next day.

It was a couple days later that life decided to take another turn. Bill had left for his ‘other’ job in Egypt with a promise to write and Arawn was trying to adjust to staying with the hectic and large family. It was early morning and Arawn was sitting on the porch working on sketching the chicken that had-- by the twin’s accounts-- decided itself one day that it wanted to wear Ginny’s doll’s trousers and never stopped. As he worked steadily on the last of the shading, there was a startling bang from somewhere that, for once, was not from the twin’s room. Arawn jerked, falling off his perch and into the bushes as Molly came out, wiping water off her hands with her apron.

“Arawn, dear, did you see where Errol landed? I’m afraid he’s missed the window again…”

Cautiously crawling out from the bush, Arawn peeked towards where he’d heard the sound. The kitten who had eventually been named Felis Mortis but was often called Morty for short, jaunted over to the other side of the deck, it’s whiplike tail curling with its own question as Arawn asked, “Who’s Errol?”

“Oh, that’s right, you haven’t met him. Errol’s our owl, dear. Poor thing’s getting on in years but I just dont-- ah--” Molly leaned down and came back up with a hefty if a bit ruffled looking owl on her arm and a bundle of letters clutched in her other hand. She helped the owl onto a perch and gave Errol a gentle scratch-- picking some hay out of the feathers as she did so-- before humming to herself, “Ah, the Hogwarts letters.”

Hog….warts? Arawn scratched at his ear, wondering if he’d misheard. Honestly, he didn’t trust his own perception of the world anymore after seeing dishes clean themselves and the Weasley’s talking mirror. There was even a picture of some men in front of a tavern that got into a fistfight yesterday evening and the twins had started a betting pool until Molly came down and took the ‘pot’ away. Of course they’d been using an actual cooking pot and were collecting candy and whatever people threw in so…

Wondering what wart letters delivered by owls meant in this new world of magic, Arawn gathered up Morty and his little pouch of drawing pencils and had started to head back inside when Molly said, “Oh… Arawn?”

“Hm?”

“Here’s a letter for you from Bill and… how old are you, dear?”

“I turn eleven in November.”

She pursed her lips, staring at a second envelope before offering it out. “I don’t know how Dumbledore knew but it looks like you’ve been accepted into Hogwarts as well. You’ll be starting Hogwarts with Ginny this year if you accept.”

She was _definitely_ saying hog warts, Arawn affirmed to himself as he cautiously took the letter and asked, “Mrs Weasley? Uhm… what’s Hog Warts?”

“It’s the school for magic,” Mr Weasley answered as he stepped out of the front door with his briefcase. He kissed Molly on the cheek, nose, and then with a chuckle on her mouth when she tugged him back again. “Alright, I’ll try to be home early to help with the shopping but--”

“Nonsense, we’ll go next week on one of your days off as a family. When the weather’s nice. Make a day of it.” Molly answered as she pulled away and dusted some flour off his robe. “You’ve got your lunch?”

He held up a quilted lunch bag. “I do indeed. Need me to pick anything up tonight?”

“More flour if you please, dear. Going to do some baking and no doubt by the time I’m finished we’ll be running low.”

Arthur nodded, giving Molly another quick kiss before stepping off the porch and disappearing with a pop.

As much as he’d love to say he was getting used to strange things like people popping in and out of existence… well, it unsettled and surprised him each time even if he thought it was amazing and wonderful. Arawn shifted Morty and slung him over his shoulder-- the kitten crawling into its preferred spot in his hood as he clutched his letters and headed inside.

Most of the family wasn’t yet up-- probably because Arawn still struggled with the European time zone and often found himself awake at odd hours like slightly before sunrise-- so Arawn’s walk up the stairs to ‘his’ room was quiet. He could hear Ginny moving around her room just below him as he sat on the bed and took out the letter.

Mr Arawn Mortilus  
Weasley House  
Ottery St Catchpole  
Devon

Arawn cracked open the letter, the wax seal popping off with a satisfying crackle as he opened it. The parchment inside was just as satisfying to touch as the envelope and he rubbed his fingers over the little crinkle in the corner where it must have gotten bent by Errol’s crash.

Hogwarts School  
of  
WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
~  
 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

> _Dear Mr. Mortilus,_
> 
> _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
>  Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
> Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._
> 
> _Yours sincerely,  
>  Minerva McGonagall  
> Deputy Headmistress_

The names and titles were foreign and magical sounding but ‘Headmistress’ and ‘Headmaster’ sounded rather strict and foreboding. He was reading through the list of needed items when a sinking feeling started to enter his chest. Even if he ‘could’ buy all this he was still deeply afraid of one thing in particular. _What if he went to this school and one of the teachers recognized him from a milk carton or something and called his mother_? He didn’t know anything about European schools-- let alone magic schools-- but the last thing he wanted was for Mr and Mrs Weasley to get in trouble for harbouring him.

And how did this school know he was there? The answer was probably magic since Molly had said ‘she didn’t know’ but it alarmed him just how _much_ magic could do. Of course, who could say he could even _do_ magic just because he could _see_ magic. The thoughts swirled, dark and angry in his head as he pinched the skin between his fingers until there was a knock at the door.

“Arawn?” Ginny cracked open the door. “Hey, after breakfast everyone’s going up the hill to play quidditch. Did you want to come along?”

“Uhm. I don’t know. What’s quidditch?” Arawn asked, setting aside his drawing pad and heading to follow Ginny who was waiting at the doorway.

Ginny giggled, moving out of the way for him and heading down the stairs ahead of him. “It’s a wizard sport--”

“The only one worthwhile,” one of the twins interrupted, coming out of their room. “Are you and Ginny going to join us after all? We can go three on three if you come.”

The other twin, still tugging on a shirt as he followed his brother down the stairs picked up where he left off. “Can’t use the balls but the sour apple tree will have some fruit on it by now. Course--”

“--Doubt Ron could hit anything that small--”

“Arawn are you any good with a bat?”

“Maybe you’d be better at catching?”

“Well we have to see if he can keep his balance first--”

“Has ‘e even been on a broom before? Probably not since--”

“Oh, are Ginny and Arawn joining us?” Ron asked, peeking up from the bottom of the stairs with Harry.

Ginny fell back, already blushing like mad as she gripped Arawn’s hand. Since the day she’d come with her mother and Bill, they’d somehow fallen into being friends. She seemed to love sitting with Arawn and just asking him questions-- which was nice because he had plenty to ask her in return. During one of their conversations she’d let drop that she had a crush on Harry. Actually, according to her brothers, she’d had a crush ever since they met the year before. Her brothers were nice enough that they didn’t say anything while around Harry but Arawn was fairly certain that Harry knew. Harry was incredibly observant but always polite enough to pretend he didn’t notice things. Like how she put her elbow in the butter or accidentally dumped a spoonful of flour into her tea instead of sugar.

Breakfast was lively-- as it usually was-- and afterwards they all hiked up the hill carrying broomsticks. The top of the hill was empty, blocked away from the world by the thick apple trees. While the others started taking turns trying Harry’s broom and catching, Ginny held out an old broom to Arawn. “Ready?”

“What-- uhm-- what do I do?”

“Grip it here-- like this,” she said showing him where to place his hands as he straddled the broom feeling quite silly, “and then you can just try lifting your feet and floating for a few seconds.”

To use one of his favourite British phrases-- it all sounded a bit mad. If Arawn hadn’t seen the others already flying around he might have thought she was ‘having a go’ as Bill used to say. He gripped the handle, biting his lip as he sucked in a steadying breath… and lifted his legs. There was a moment where it felt like his stomach dropped back to the ground and he thought he was about to have bruised knees and an aching crotch but then he realized he was floating. Beaming, he looked back and Ginny. “I did it!”

“Try going forward!” She said, taking a step back with a matching smile.

It took little more than leaning forward with the simple thought of ‘go’-- nothing like riding his mother’s horses-- and then the broom zipped forward. Well, it felt like zipping but really he couldn’t have been going much faster than a quick walk. He made one full circle around the clearing without wobbling except for when he went to put his feet down.

“Well done!” One of the twins said, passing Harry back his broom as they trotted over. “A little faster and you might even give Harry a run for seeker. Want to _really_ test your balance?”

The rest of the morning seemed a blur. They tossed the apples-- bitter hard things that according to the Weasley’s never grew right so it was alright to use them as ammo-- and everyone explained how quidditch worked. Ron and Fred --at least Arawn thought it might be Fred-- actually acted out something from one of the matches that a famous team recently had. At least once Arawn even threw an apple so well that even Harry couldn’t catch it on his fast broom. They all crowded as they walked back in a joyful huddle as Arawn shyly explained, “My brother and I used to play baseball. I was a pitcher-- the person who throws the ball. But I can hit it too.”

“Well whatever it was,” George said enthusiastically patting his back, “You’ve got a wicked arm. The quidditch team best lookout next time there are tryouts. What do’ya reckon, Fred? Beater?”

Fred shifted the two brooms he was carrying with a grin as he answered, “A hit like that and we wouldn’t see the bludger till next season!”

The twins didn’t bother with the gate as they hopped the fence and greeted Molly who was in the yard hanging laundry. The way everyone acted… it seemed more like something from a movie than the neat and exceptionally tidy reality that Arawn had grown up with. What was even more jarring was that everyone was happy, even him.

Morty greeted him at the door with a yell as they all headed in for lunch and Ginny opened a small jar and offered the kitten a piece of something fishy smelling as she said, “He seems nicer lately. Mum said you got your letter, are you going to bring him with you to Hogwarts?”

“You’re going to Hogwarts? Do you start this year?” Harry asked, passing a plate of corn beef sandwiches in exchange for the roast beef ones.

The talk of the school was like a raincloud there to shower his good mood into the mud and Arawn focused his attention on slowly tearing off the crust off his cheese sandwich as he answered, “I don’t know.”

“What’s not to know?” Ron asked around a mouthful of green beans as he added an extra roast beef sandwich slice to his plate. “They allow cats.”

Arawn wasn’t sure what there was to know or not know except he _**did**_ know that his throat felt like it was closing the more he thought about it. It was difficult to breathe and he fell quiet. Now that he’d started to think about it all again the panic was setting in. All the fears from that morning were coming tumbling back like a fall from the broom. Though the conversation was soon turned back to quidditch, Arawn couldn’t stop thinking about Hogwarts now that he’d been reminded. A part of him knew this dream-like existence couldn’t last but he’d hoped it would last longer. Much longer. The Weasleys might not be his family but he’d liked it there.

In fact, he’d liked it quite a lot.

Molly was cleaning up the kitchen after the others had all headed back out and Arawn was still picking at his sandwich when Ginny came and sat across from him.

“You want to talk about it?” She asked, setting a plate of cookies onto the table.

Arawn toyed with the last piece of crust that he hadn’t completely torn apart. “Are magic schools like, uhm, muggle schools?”

“Never been. I don’t know.” She answered. “Why? What are muggle schools like?”

“I don’t remember my old school very well. I did homeschool with-- uhm-- I just… what if someone recognizes me? I can’t go back. … I won’t.”

She frowned at him as she propped her chin on her arm. “Why would someone recognize you?”

“Uhm, well if they do the news broadcasts or pictures on milk cartons or if they put my picture in the paper-- what if a teacher-- I... I don’t know…”

That was only partially true. He did know. What he didn’t know was how to explain his fears to someone with such a nice family. Yet there was a host of reasons that he liked having Ginny as a friend. Near the top of that list was because she always seemed to take him seriously which she certainly seemed to be doing right then.

“Okay,” she said slowly, chewing on her lip in thought. “So what about a disguise?”

That actually sounded reasonable. He wasn’t sure how well a disguise would work-- and come to think of it, if he didn’t have his hair down and wasn’t wearing a dress, then he was already in a bit of a disguise. He simply nodded, thinking over things about himself and trying to think of what would give him away. Fake noses or a stuck-on beard seemed silly but perhaps he could dye his hair? That is… if Mrs Weasley allowed it. And helped. He’d never dyed his hair before.

Ginny seemed thinking along the same lines as she reached over and tugged his braid. “You could cut your hair if you wanted. Mum usually does haircuts before Hogwarts shopping.”

As if summoned, Molly walked over. She patted her hands dry on a dishtowel as she spoke, “I’d be happy to do your hair too if you wanted, dear, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know…” Arawn said, still feeling quite glum even with this new idea.

He’d always wanted to cut his hair but now that it was being offered… he wasn’t so sure. Plus, Bill had a ponytail and long hair too. He’d liked that about Bill. It had been one of the things that made it feel safe when he’d first told Bill that he was only pretending to be a girl to make his mother happy. If Bill could be a boy with long hair then Arawn could too, right?

Molly patted his arm, heading for her seat and knitting as she said, “It’s fine dear. Take your time thinking about it. Oh, and let me know if you want to send a letter back to Bill. We can drop it off at Gringotts when we go shopping next week.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So my year started with me falling and bashing my knee hard enough that it's been a purple mess now for a few weeks and I've been messed up on painkillers. That being said-- this is all mostly beta'd by my spouse since reading is like 'hard mode' for my brain right now. I don't think this chapter needs any personal tagging if I remember correctly. Anyhow, hope yall are well and enjoy!  
> ~

* * *

  
_Dear Bill,_

_I do want to know! Every detail! I didn’t know about magic or that they put curses on the tombs but it makes sense I guess. Most ‘muggle’ stuff thinks that the curses are things like traps with acid or people get sick from old funguses. I really do want to hear about it! Also, I found one of your books with stories about old romanian curses when Morty knocked over a pile and I hope you don’t mind that I started reading it. I liked the story about the goats that kept floating and they’d thought it was a curse but it just turns out that it was because his neighbor kept feeding them a magic fruit however the neighbor did curse their chimney and they hadn’t noticed._

_And for me, today we played quiddich? (Did I spell it right?) and I flew a broom. George and Fred both think I could be a Beater which I guess you know what that is better than I do but there are magic balls that attack people and I would have to keep them away? I also got a letter from a place called Hogwarts. Next week we go to Diagon for shopping and ~~Arth~~ Mr Weasley is going to help me open an account so that I can convert the rest of my savings and keep it safe. I liked riding a broom and think maybe I might use some of my savings to get one but Percy said that if I go to Hogwarts first years aren’t allowed to bring brooms-- but Harry said I could ride his sometimes on the weekend if I wanted. He is on the school’s team. Or house team? I’m not sure I understood when they all ~~axplaned~~ explained Houses to me but Harry asked if I wanted to throw things for him during practice because I can throw farther than Ron. It was kind of funny because I threw one so far that Harry couldn’t catch it and then everyone made me flex for them so they could feel my arm. You’d think they’d never seen muscles by the way everyone acted but you had trouble lifting those bags… so maybe I am strong? I was thinking I might start doing push-ups though. I like quiddich (really, am I spelling that right? That word is so ~~wierd~~ weird.) and George said that Beaters need to be real strong but in my second year if I go to Hogwarts I can try out for a House team so I figure if I do pushups now maybe I’ll be ~~stronge~~ strong enough next year?_

_I’m not sure I should go to hogwarts though. ~~I don’t think I’m magic~~. I’m worried that someone might see me and tell my mom. I don’t want to go back. I really like your family-- everyone is really nice and I like helping with the gardening. Mrs Weasley grows everything different than my dad. She said she uses a spell to keep a lot of pests away and was surprised when I mentioned that my dad plants marigolds along the border of his garden to keep away most bugs and then we used to use dried chicken shells to keep slugs and stuff from eating those. Maybe spells are more practical because our pests seem to be different from magic pests but I like the way the flowers looked. I know the garden is just for food but I think it might be nice with more flowers. Your mom is nice enough that she should ~~alwys~~ always have flowers, right? Well, we won't mail this till next week when we go to Diagon so maybe I will write more before then?_

_Sincerely, Arawn_

* * *

~

  
The next week came rather quickly.

Arawn sat on the steps anxiously watching the other boys get haircuts. He’d yet to decide if it was something he wanted and had been thinking about it off and on ever since it was suggested. To be honest, he’d never had more than his ends trimmed in the past so the idea of short hair was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Thanks, mum,” Fred said, checking himself in the living room’s talking mirror after she’d finished and dusted him off. “Think it’s your best job yet.”

George-- who’d already had his haircut-- lazed nearby on the couch with a book and barely glanced up. “That or we’re simply more handsome this year.”

Ginny snorted which in turn set both the twins and Ron off into cackles before Fred sobered and looked at Arawn. “Were you getting one as well?”

“Maybe?”

“Mm--” Percy huffed, getting up from where he’d been waiting beside George. “If you haven't decided then I’ll go next.”

“Ay, settle down you git,” George said, yanking the back of Percy’s robes and nearly tossing him back onto the couch. “Let ‘em take a moment. It’s not like you can make that mess on your head look decent anyhow. Go shine your stupid prefect badge again.”

Outraged and easily offended-- maybe because his hair was the curliest out of all the Weasleys or maybe because he had just finished shining his badge and it gleamed brightly where it was pinned to his robes-- Percy dissolved into a series of angry huffs that only started words but never finished them.

“It’s ok. He can go. I… still haven’t decided,” Arawn said quietly, trying to diffuse the fight.

As Percy huffed his thank you and swanned over to the chair for his cut, Fred and George shared a look. It was rather sudden as Arawn found himself spirited away up the stairs and to what he was pretty sure was the twin’s room. It was a house consensus that ‘no one’ beside the twins was ever allowed in their room. There were books and notes with little diagrams amiss the chaos of cluttered projects but most of it was lost in darkness as George flicked on a light and tilted it to shine at Arawn.

“Allrighty there buster,” Fred said in the most astoundingly bad and overdramatized American cowboy accent, “w’aters been buggin ye?”

Arawn was a mix of offended and terrified but the offended won as he said, “Uhm, first off-- I don’t sound like that. Second off, it’s not ‘ye’ unless you’re a pirate. It’s y’all and y’all should get it right.”

George snorted, pulling up a stool as he offered out a bright blue candy stick. Having heard about the twins often ‘testing’ candy inventions on their siblings Arawn simply narrowed his eyes at it. Seeing his expression, George held up another and stuck it in his mouth as he said, “It’s safe. Promise. We only leave the other stuff out for them to find.”

“We keep these ones locked.” Fred agreed, snagging one and thankfully dropping both the light and accent as he sat. “One-hundred per cent untampered with.”

Though he wasn't sure what to think of that, Arawn took the offered stick. He didn’t quite trust them enough to eat it yet but that seemed fine as Fred leaned in. “Listen, we heard what you said to Ginny. About disguises. We’ve been thinking--”

“--quite a lot actually--”

“--and we came up with a few ideas even if you don’t cut your hair.”

George nodded. “And we even think we made a pretty decent hair potion to make it grow back to the right length if you _did_ cut it.”

“Why…” Arawn paused, still fidgeting with the little candy stick, “Uhm, why help? And why tell me here?”

They shared another glance before shrugging in unison. Fred was the first to answer, “We have an image to uphold--”

“Yeah. And Percy’s a git.”

“And mum _might_ object to some of our ideas--”

“Might.” George agreed with a final nod. “But it’s not her decision. It’s yours--”

“--and we wanted to make sure you had time to make it without feeling like it wasn’t.”

“And to make sure you knew that we could help if you got it cut and didn’t like it.”

“But it’s not just the hair that seems to bug you--”

“--you get quiet every time school is mentioned--”

“--it’s not that bad there--”

“--even Filch isn’t too bad as long as it’s not something he has to clean--”

“-- but we figured it wasn’t just needing a disguise that was bothering you. We wanted to know what was up.”

“If you wanted to say, that is.”

“Yeah.”

They both nodded amiably in unison and once he was sure that they were done with their pitch, Arawn decided to try and voice his concern, “I don’t-- I mean-- I’m not sure I’m magic.”

Both George and Fred blinked at him for far longer than he felt comfortable with before they said, “What?”

“Uhm… I--”

“No,” Fred interrupted, “We heard you but--” “--you wouldn’t have gotten a letter if you weren't.” “And you flew a broom.” “Yeah, and you flew-- wait can squibs fly?” “Don’t think so?”

Their usual tumble of conversation dropped to a hush as Fred turned around to write something down and George leaned forward into the light. “Look, if that’s your issue then you’re fine.”

“Probably fine.” Agreed Fred, turning back around.

Arawn didn’t want to look up at them as he whispered, “and if I’m not?”

“Eh,” George shrugged, “You’re still one of us. You’ve seen our room now after all.”

“...kay…”

Fred gripped his shoulder-- it was gentle and not full of malice but Arawn tensed anyhow. The twin’s grins were almost feral as they leaned in and George asked, “So about your hair…”  
  


~

  
For what might have been the hundredth time, Arawn ran his fingers through his hair. It was short. Very short. Almost alarmingly short. And… it was now ginger. If he was next to Ginny-- which he was now as she dragged him along to follow behind the quickly moving Arthur on their way to Gringotts-- then it was easy to mistake him as Ginny’s twin. It was probably the most brilliant disguise, and according to the twins, people would just assume he was another Weasley.

Course, Molly had been… miffed.

Okay, that was an oversimplification but after Arawn had burst into terrified tears she’d stopped yelling at the twins and apologised both to Arawn and them. Since then, she’d been walking on proverbial eggshells around him. She didn’t even make him change it back which was nice.

As they walked, Arawn tucked his free hand back into his pocket to make sure the envelope for Bill was still there. They were going to drop it off at Gringotts but the rather rollercoaster-like ride in the chimney had him a little shook. The envelope was there and thick as ever. He rather hoped that Bill wouldn’t mind since he’d combined all the little letters he’d written into one giant wad and it was a little bulky even for his standards.

Ginny squeezed his hand to get his attention as she pointed at a shop that they were passing, “We’ll probably be going there after. For wands. That’s Ollivanders.”

The shop-- like all the others-- had a unique look that somehow both stood out and blended in with all the others. The windows of both stories were dusty with the shelves beyond only barely visible and along the shelves were boxes upon boxes with little labels. There was only one lone light near the front door of the shop and it disappeared as they rounded the bend to find Harry walking with a rather giant man -- or maybe he was a magic bear but Arawn wasn’t sure because all he could see once they were close was quite a bit of hair and a puff of smoke that was leaking from one of their pockets.

“Harry! Harry! Over here!”

Arawn leaned to see past Ginny to who was calling Harry just as a pretty black girl with a puffy cloud of brown hair ran past. “Oh-- Harry what happened to your glasses? Hello, Hagrid-- Oh, it’s _wonderful_ to see you two again-- Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?”

“As soon as I’ve found the Weas-- Oh. Hi, Mr Weasley.”

Arthur nodded, wiping his brow as he said, “I told Molly you probably only went one grate too far. Do you need your glasses fixed?”

“Ah, yes--” Harry handed them over just as Molly and the others came round the corner.

“Oh! Thank goodness. When I’d checked the other exit and you weren’t there I feared the worst--” she cut short as she pulled a little brush from her bag and set it to brushing the still ash-covered Harry who was now talking excitedly with Ron and the girl who must be their friend. Molly muttered to herself as she brushed, “Could of ended up anywhere. Thank goodness you’re alright.”

Arawn, who had rather thought the whole chimney experience to be unnerving as well, simply raised a brow. Once Harry was dusted, they all headed into Gringotts and as Arthur spoke with one of the goblins. It was to Arawn's immense surprise that the new girl came over to introduce herself.

“Hi! I’m Hermione. Ron’s told me so much about you-- you must be Ginny,” She said with a pretty smile that showed a small gap between her front teeth similar to the one Arawn had. “And… Ron didn’t say he had another brother. Unless you’re Charlie but I thought Charlie was older...”

Arawn ducked his head, his now much shorter hair falling forward to barely cover his face as he mumbled, “I’m Arawn. Nice to meet you.”

“He’s staying with us,” Ginny said, letting go of his hand to shake Hermione’s. “From America.”

It was nice that Ginny left it openly ambiguous on if they were related or not. Since Arawn didn’t know this new girl, he wasn’t sure he trusted her-- nice as she was-- and that went double after hearing Arthur excitedly exclaimed that her parents were Muggles. The conversation dropped awkwardly after that. Thankfully Arawn was led away to sign something and then it wasn’t long before he was walking out and they were heading for the wand shop as Harry, Hermione, and Ron set off with Hermione’s parents for somewhere else. Then Arthur ushered them into Ollivanders, saying he’d be right back because there was someone he had to talk to. All that was left of the group was just him and Ginny.

Stepping into Ollivanders was a lot like looking at it. The place had a strange sort of foreboding feeling while still feeling captivating. Of course, it was less captivating since all the dust made him want to sneeze as they cautiously approached the counter.

“Hello? Mr Ollivander?” Ginny called.

Silence.

The building creaked slowly, settling like a tired sigh and he could hear Ginny sucking in a breath to call again when suddenly an old man slammed into view with a bang on a rolling ladder. The bang made Ginny scream and Arawn ducked as he looked for a desk to jump under out of habit.

“Good afternoon.” The old man said cheerily in a whispery thin voice. “I didn’t hear you come in. Now-- you are here for wands? Of course you are-- Knew you’d been coming in soon miss Ginny Weasley, how fast you’ve grown.”

Ginny nodded. “Yessir.”

He hummed, sliding on the ladder and it zipped around the corner as he talked-- mostly to himself-- and muttered, “No doubt you will be like your brothers. Let’s see...”

The ladder slid around the corner again and stopped with another bang as he slid off and set a little box down on the counter. “Try this one. Twelve inches, pliable, ash with a core of unicorn tail hair. Quite reliable.”

Ginny’s hand searched out Arawn's, holding it tight as she stepped up to the counter and grabbed the little stick from the box and flicked it. ...but nothing happened. The man scowled and hobbled back down the path between the shelves as he muttered, “Hm-- Last child. Headstrong like your mother-- or maybe… hm, perhaps-- ah!”

When he came back it was with a chuckle as he set the box down. “Yew. Eleven inches with dragon heartstring core-- good for duelling and curses.”

This time when she flicked it a little glow of light formed at the tip. It sparkled gently and she gave a delighted gasp before setting it down. The old man nodded with a smile. “That’s the one. Just the same as your uncle. You look like him. I’m sure your mother would be proud.”

Ginny beamed, already seeming more relaxed as she said, “Thank you. Dad will be back in a moment to pay.”

“Alright. And… who might you be,” Ollivander asked while looking over his specs at Arawn. “Surely not another Weasley... Are you here for a wand as well?”

“Yessir,” Arawn said, not feeling relaxed in the slightest and his voice came out a tight squeak as he continued, “Arawn Mortilus, sir.”

The old man didn’t smile at him. Instead, he leaned over the counter. With him so uncomfortably close Arawn could smell the man. He smelled, rather surprisingly, like the crypt and museum that he’d visited with Bill. Though the smell of crypts had never bothered him previously it was hard not be just a hair unnerved. More than a hair actually. Arawn tried to look away-- anywhere but at the man-- but the old man barked, “Look into my eyes boy!”

Arawn complied, feeling rather shaken as he forced himself to stare into the man’s strangely pale eyes. Eventually, the man leaned away though his eyes were narrowed as he asked, “And where are you from, Mr Mortilus?”

“America,” Arawn said in a tiny whisper that even he could barely hear.

“And your wand arm?”

Arawn wasn’t sure what he meant by that but like his brother, he was left-handed most of the time and he said as much, “Left, sir.”

“Hmm…” The thoughtful humm faded off along with the sound of the ladder and they were left in silence as Arawn began to fear that the old man wouldn’t let him buy a wand. He and Ginny waited in silence before there was a loud BANG and the old man was back. He carefully opened and put three boxes down onto the counter and then, as an afterthought, he added one more.

Ollivander slid one of the boxes towards him as he said, “Willow with a snallygaster heartstring. Eleven inches and swishy.”

It didn’t feel right even as Arawn picked it up. The next didn’t feel right either. It seemed like they went through every wand in the shop as boxes started to pile up and he was beginning to struggle to hold back tears.

Perhaps he really wasn’t a wizard after all.

He’d been internally at war about going to this school but now that it was starting to look like he couldn’t go… he realized he _wanted_ to go. He wanted to be magic like the others and to have a wand that lit up when he touched it and to be able to do _magic_.

Ollivander hummed, his misty eyes staring at Arawn before he asked, “Tell me, is there any in your family who you would consider yourself closest to?”

“M-my uncle. Sir. But he… passed away. In an accident.”

It felt like Ollivander was trying to see through him with how hard he stared before he wandered over to the window and lifted a pillow that had rested there. There, on the faded purple velvet pillow and bleached white by day after day of sitting in the sun, was a wand. Ollivander carried it back over to the counter reverently, his face sombre as he said, “This is the last wand crafted by my great-great grandfather before he passed and one of the few wands in existence ever to have a core of thestral tail hair. Ten and a half inches, Maple. Unyielding. This is a difficult wand to wield.”

The handle looked almost like bone and the soft dips and crooks of the wood were a warm grey like wood that had been worn down by the sands on the beach next to where his uncle used to live. Arawn couldn’t help but say exactly what came to mind as he stared down at it, “It’s beautiful.”

“Then perhaps,” Ollivander said patiently as he slid the velvet pillow closer, “you should try picking it up.”

It reminded him of a stick that his uncle had that hung on the wall in his little apartment. His uncle had said that a dear friend had carved it for him while they were hiking the Himalayas but… recently he’d began to wonder if perhaps his uncle had been magic too. Maybe the stick had really been a wand? Maybe that's the side of the family that Arawn had gotten magic from? As he reached out to touch the wand, he held his breath.

The wood felt soft and warm to the touch thanks to sitting in the sun. It... felt like home. He could feel the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He blinked rapidly to try and stave them off as he lifted it-- all while hoping that maybe this would be the one-- and it was.

Blue coloured sparks swirled out of the tip and down his arm in a joyful little spiral and he couldn’t help it as he gave a strangled part-sob part-happy-gasp as the lights disappeared into the ceiling.

“Well… that is certainly interesting,” Ollivander said, taking it gently and placing it in a box that he placed beside Ginny’s wand. “Interesting indeed.”


	6. Chapter 6

> _Dear Bill,_
> 
> _Ginny and I got our wands at Diagon. We picked up everything else as well but was getting your wand difficult? I was afraid that I wasn’t ~~magic~~ a wizard. Mr Ollivander made me try so many wands befor he brought out a really pretty one that was all white from sitting in the sun and it reminds me a lot of the wood my uncle and I would find on the beach. Mr Ollivander said it was the last one his great grandfather ever made and it made sparks dance when I touched it! Mr Weasley took me to get a wand holster fitted for it afterwards but I’m magic! I have a wand!_
> 
> _Ginny’s was really pretty too but she only needed to try two before hers lit. It’s really nice. I think Mr Ollivander said hers was ~~ash~~ yew (I think the first she tried was ash) and dragon? I’m not sure because he was kind of scaring me but it’s very pretty too and all black with a swirly handle. She’s been in a really good mood since she got it and it’s thin enough that she does this funny thing where she balances it on her upper lip and crosses her eyes._
> 
> _What was getting your wand like? Were you scared?_
> 
> _Sincerely, Arawn_
> 
> _Ps. we met one of our teachers while getting our books too. He has a very nice smile but he reminds me of my mom’s boss when he’d compliment my dress and he makes me uncomfortable. He has a lot of books about his adventures though so I guess he’d good? I’ll write and tell you after my first class with him._
> 
> ~o~

Arawn flopped down on the seat beside Ginny. Across from him was Hermione and she fidgeted nervously nonstop. As the train pulled out she double, triple, and quadruple checked that her books were saving space for Harry and Ron who must still be wandering the train. The whole goodbye was rather hectic-- and walking through a rock wall was new-- but now they were on their way to Hogwarts.

It seemed like the last few weeks had flown by and he still couldn’t believe it. Mrs Weasley had even sewn and enchanted a little hood pouch into all his new school cloaks so that Morty could come with him. Since they'd had to go through a train station though and non-magical people would get weirded out if they all wore their cloaks, Morty was currently in the front long pocket of his hoodie. From where he was curled, the cat grumbled as Arawn settled down and tried not to feel nervous. He hadn’t realized that you had to _live_ at the school until everyone was packing and Molly had taken measurements for a couple of extra clothes since besides the required robes and formal uniform he only had his jeans, favourite t-shirt, jacket, and a second overly large t-shirt for sleeping.

As the train pulled away from the station, Hermione checked her books again before standing, “I’m gonna go look for them. Can you make sure no one takes our seat? Oh, and if a boy called Neville comes by, tell him I’ll be right back. If you don’t mind, he can sit with us too.”

Ginny waved a hand. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they just staked out another car and think they’re waiting for us and not the other way around.”

“What if they did get another car,” Arawn asked after Hermione had closed the door. “Do we move?”

“Pfft. No-- I… Maybe,” Ginny said going from confident to blushing like mad.

Arawn tipped his head, grinning as he poked her ribs. “You’d move for Harry?”

“Shush you.”

He laughed, feeling a slight ease to his nervousness before he sat back and sighed. “I still can’t believe I’m going to learn magic.”

Ginny glanced at him, crossing her legs on the bench-like seat and propping her head on her chin as she asked, “Are you excited for the sorting?”

“I guess? I’m still confused but I know all the names,” he said ticking them off on his fingers, “Gryffindor is the one that your brothers, Harry, and Hermione are all in. Then there is Hufflepuff and… Hufflepuffs are nice? Is that right? And Ravenclaw is for smart people. The last one is Slytherin.”

Ginny huffed, “I’ll end up in Gryffindor. Probably. All Weasleys do.”

“Do you not want Gryffindor?”

Red crept over her face like someone spilling dye into a freckled vat before she muttered, “I want Gryffindor.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll get Gryffindor,” he said with a confident grin.

Their conversation was cut short though as Hermione and a round-faced boy came in. It wouldn’t have been an issue except Hermione looked like she might cry at any minute and Arawn stood up feeling very worried. “Hermione? Are you okay?”

She fanned herself, taking deep breaths before looking calmer and said, “I can’t find Harry or Ron.”

The boy with her looked just as troubled as he said, “I checked the other parts. You don’t think they missed the train do you?”

That joyous mood started to sour as Arawn looked to a pale Ginny who looked very much like she needed to be reminded to breathe. He put a hand on her shoulder he asked, “Is there another train if they missed this one?”

She shook her head.

“Oh,” Hermione pressed her face between her hands as she took another breath but she too looked like she was about to panic. She moved her hand to bite at her knuckle as she muttered, “Oh-- I just know they’re just bound to do something dumb. Then they’ll get expelled.”

Scowling, Arawn used his free hand to pull the hand she was biting away as he led her over to sit beside Ginny who’s eyes had started to definitely look watery. “I’ll go look for them. Okay? They probably were just in the bathroom or something that made you miss them.”

“I’ll come with you,” the other boy said, opening the door.

Arawn nodded but turned back to Ginny as he pulled his handkerchief out and carefully put it into her hand. “Here. It’s clean. Promise. You can stay here in case if they come looking. Alright? ...don’t cry.”

She sniffled, her eyes wide as she tried to hold it back and said, “Thanks.”

He nodded and followed the other boy out, closing the door carefully behind him. Though he didn’t like hitting because it reminded him of his mum, he really wanted to give Ron and Harry a good thump for making Ginny cry. …Well… not really. Maybe he’d see if he could make Harry sit beside her though.

“You’re Arawn, right?” the boy asked, peeking into cars as the walked. “Hermione told me you were their cousin from America. Don’t they have a wizarding school there?”

Arawn peeked into the next car-- it was full of giggling girls who were all already in their uniforms. There were blue crow patches on their tops and they all fell silent until he and the other boy passed.

“I don’t know. I didn’t know I was mag-- uh, a wizard till I got my Hogwarts letter. ...My family didn’t allow talk about magic.”

“Ah… weird. I’d heard they were really strict about magic in the Americas--- oh, I’m Neville by the way. Neville Longbottom.”

“Arwan Mortilus.”

That earned a small gasp before Neville asked, “As in _the_ Mortillus family? Oh, it’s no wonder you got a Hogwarts letter.”

Arawn wanted to ask what he’d meant by that but they’d reached a car full of sombre looking kids who’d all fallen silent as soon as they’d opened the door. Neville tugged him back and the door clicked closed as he whispered, “They won't be past there. Com’on let’s go back up and check the other cars.”

“Why wouldn’t they be there?” Arawn asked, following Neville as they walked back up the aisle checking the little rooms again even though they knew Ron and Harry weren’t there.

“Those cars are all Slytherin.”

“O-kay?”

Naville paused, “We’re Gryffindor.” Arawn still very obviously didn’t get it, so Neville said, “You know. Gryffindor and Slytherin don’t get along?”

“Oh.”

“OH! I see red hair-- no. It’s just Fred. Or George. I can’t tell them apart.”

“Fred is a little more serious,” Arawn said as he had an idea, “be right back.”

“How do you tell is someone is more serious by looking at them though?” Neville wondered as Arawn ran over to where the spotted twin had gone. Inside the car was George telling a story to a bunch of other older kids and Fred was interjecting at random points from where he stood next to the door.

Arawn tugged Fred’s sleeve to get his attention. “Fred. Fred. Hey, can I talk to you?”

Fred waived to George before stepping out as he said, “What’s up?”

“Hermione couldn’t find Ron and Harry and I think Ginny’s gonna cry-- actually it looked like Hermione might cry too but I gave Ginny my kerchief but she’s worried and Neville and I walked all the way back to the area with the Slytherin kids but Neville says that they wouldn’t be there and we can’t find them either andI’mnotsurewhattodo,” Arawn said in a worried rush of jumbled words that all started to stream together at the end.

“Woah, well-- breathe first,” Fred said before knocking on the glass. George popped out as Fred continued, “We’ll look for them too. It’s a big train. Maybe you missed them.”

“Missed who?” George asked.

“Humpty and Rumpty.”

“Which humpty--- oooh Ron and Harry--...you don’t think they missed it, do you?” George’s voice said just before the car door opened and they crossed into the next car and out of hearing.

Arawn turned back to Neville who was waiting nervously. “I’m gonna look again. You should go make sure Ginny and Hermione are okay.”

“I-- okay. Come get me if you need help?”

Arawn nodded. He was pretty sure that everyone along the train was really weirded out after that because he carefully marched down the train again looking intently into each car three more times until Fred found him and asked, “see em?”

“No.”

“Damn… they must have missed it. They’re not here. George went to see if Ginny’s alright.”

The rest of the trip felt more solemn than it had started even after Arawn pulled out some of his money and bought everyone in the little room some sweets from the cart that wheeled by.

“It’ll be okay,” George said, trying to cheer up Ginny after they’d all changed into their robes. “They probably missed it and dad drove them up--”

“You’ll see them at the sorting,” Fred cut in. “It’ll be fine and you still have all school year to see them.”

“And us.”

Ginny sighed, forcing on a small smile as she said, “Yeah. It’ll be okay. ...thanks.”

Yet Hermione still looked gloomy as she toyed with a wrapper from a Licorice Wand and Arawn, hoping to try and cheer her up, encouraged Morty to crawl out of his pocket and onto her lap by using a piece of string. She tensed as Morty edged out looking for all the world like a tiny, wrinkled, curly-haired gremlin up until he got to her lap. Once Morty was on her lap he started purring and she stroked him gently as she said, “I’ve never seen a cat with fur like this. What kind is it?”

“Not sure.” Arawn answered. “I found him in a grave. Bill took Mr and Mrs Weasley and I out on a tour of an old crypt. We’d just finished when I heard a meow-- actually I thought it was a hurt bird because his meow sounds like a crow-- but there was a grave with no name and I saw him stuck in the sculpture.”

“Yeah, and dad said it bit the hell out of you,” Fred said with a chuckle.

George nodded from where he was acting as a pillow for Ginny. “Heard you took it like a champ though. Not even a wince even though you bled all over--”

“Really, I’m telling you-- you’d be amazing at quidditch, mate.”

“Not even Charlie could do that.”

The talk turned to quidditch after that and Hermione retreated to petting Morty and reading the book Arawn had ‘borrowed’ from Bill’s book pile on the history of Romanian curses. It was a clear night as he and Ginny separated from the others to follow the giant bear-man, Hagrid, who gathered all the first years up and then parsed them all into boats.

It was the most magically beautiful thing he’d ever experienced as they glided along in a little boat while above them there was an amazing castle and all its many lights reflected off the water. Once across, Hagrid passed them off to a rather stern-looking lady called McGonagall. Arawn wondered if it was the same McGonagall that had written his letter telling him he’d been accepted to the school. He even started to wonder if he might ask her how she’d known but she led them into a little room as she spoke,

“Welcome to Hogwarts. The start of term banquet will begin shortly but before you take your seats you will be sorted into your Houses. While you are here, your House will be like your family within Hogwarts. You will have your classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend your free time in your House common room.”

She went on to explain the houses and points and something about cups but Arawn was barely listening as he wondered if he’d be in Gryffindor with the others or if he’d be in another house. Would he be able to visit them if the Houses were so separate? Perhaps he might not be able to go into their common room but surely they must at least visit right?

They’d waited nervously listening to singing just beyond the big doors and then the doors opened and they walked into a big room with floating candles and a ceiling that sparkled like it was still the outside sky. There were also ghosts. Actual _**ghosts**_ and they flew around cheering as they first-years walked. Arawn was so busy admiring it and watching the ghosts zip through walls that he actually didn’t realize right away that the first-years and thus ‘he’ was the main attraction and every single pair of eyes in that room was watching them walk up the row.

Once he noticed, however, he started to feel a little faint. He might have even feinted if Ginny hadn’t squeezed his hand and kept tugging him along. There was another speech before McGonagall set down a stool and an old hat but Arawn barely heard that speech over the nervous pounding of his heart in his own ears. He was drowning in panic and not able to appreciate the fact that the hat was talking and assigning people to ‘houses’-- up until McGonagall read off his name.

His ears were ringing loud enough that he was surprised that other people could hear it as he let go of Ginny’s hand. He had to remind himself to keep breathing as he walked up to the stool. McGonagall dropped the hat over his head as soon as he sat down and over his head it certainly did go. The thing was _massive_. In fact, he was pretty sure that he could fit his shoulders in there too if he tried but instead he just sat very still as he waited for it to shout what House he’d be in.

Perhaps time had slowed or it was broken because it seemed like forever that he sat there. Staring at the inside of the hat. Listening to how his own breath hit the leather wall and smelling how dang old the hat must be. It smelled a lot like his uncle's old leather motorcycle jacket. He’d always kind of liked the smell-- more so after inheriting the jacket because it reminded him of hugging his uncle but his mother had found it and tossed it a month before their trip to Europe.

“And what is this? It’s been a long time since I’ve sorted a Mortilus,” a small voice whispered in his ears. “And what a choice this is too.”

Choice? ….did it not know where to put him? He didn’t care so much about the houses that it really mattered to him the way it mattered to the others-- he just was excited to learn magic and not be found by his mother.

The little voice whispered again, “You have enough brains but I don’t think you’d fit in to Ravenclaw. You don’t quite lack courage but it is not your strong suit. You care about others more than yourself it seems... but I think I know where to put you-- SLYTHERIN!”

The hat came off his head and for a moment he was just happy for it to be over until he saw Ginny’s face. She looked… horrified. Her hands were up covering her mouth and as he was nudged off the stool and directed towards the table decorated in green that had less students at it than all the others, he began to wonder if perhaps he should have been more concerned about what house he was sorted into.

~o~

> _Dear Bill,_
> 
> _We got sorted into our houses. Ginny got gryffindor. I didn’t. Harry and Ron flew a car to school though and got into trouble. I only found out because Mrs Weasley sent a yelling letter. It actually yelled loud enough that it cracked a cup and everyone was very upset. I had a lesson with Lockheart and I think I’m sure I don’t like him. My uncle used to say that if you lose one sense, your other senses are enhanced-- which is why people with no sense of humor have an increased sense of self-importance. Professor Lockhart seems to think he is very important. My House dorm is actually under the lake and it’s really pretty but do you think we’re allowed to change houses?_
> 
> _Sincerely, Arawn_

~o~

Learning magic was, for the most part, absolutely marvellous. The gardens were full of magical plants and there was a patch of absolutely massive pumpkins. There was history-- though most kids fell asleep during it-- but it was taught by a ghost who, though annoyed, would answer all of Arawn’s questions.

He found that he loved professor Flitwick's class even if his own spells never garnered a lot of praise. Then he had potions with his House head, Professor Snape, and he found he seemed to do well while most of the other students struggled. That sadly was the extent of the good. He found out very quickly-- and to Professor Snape's’ obvious annoyance-- that the smells from everyone’s failing potions made him very ill. He actually passed out near the end of the first time they made potions and after that Madam Pomfrey, the school’s nurse, said that he’d have to wear a mask.

Truth be told, though he felt that wearing a mask was unpleasant-- the little windows fogged up regularly if he didn’t cast a de-fogging spell that Professor Flitwick helped him with-- but it was manageable. No, the first thing that he came across that Arawn wasn’t sure he could handle was when he ran into Ginny in the hall. For the first time nearly since they’d met she’d been downright unfriendly as she hugged her books and she mumbled that Mrs Weasley had told her not to talk to him.

Neville’s words from the train haunted him as he watched her walk away.

 _Gryffindor and Slytherin don’t get along_.

That wasn’t true.

NO ONE got along with Slytherin. Worse, almost everyone else in Slytherin _liked_ it that way. Most of them prided themselves on being ‘pure-blooded’ and it was rare to never that someone with muggle parents would end up in Slytherin. Since Weasleys were a pure-blood family Arawn was begrudgingly accepted until he, in an innocent attempt to make friends, revealed that his parents were-- as far as he knew-- non-magic.

Things became distinctly hostile after that which might have been why he woke up early that Saturday morning with jinxed hair the colour of a green highlighter. He didn’t even have the slightest idea what to do. It didn’t seem like a reason to bother Madam Pomfrey-- he wasn’t physically hurt after all. He didn’t want to get anyone expelled so going to Professor Snape didn’t seem like an option so… he put on a hat, tucked Morty into his cloak, and fled down to the gardens.

Alone, he sat down against one of the large pumpkins and Morty crawled out to sit on his lap as they watched the crows. The birds bounced, cawing and playing and looking happy. Before he knew it, Arawn was sobbing. He couldn’t help it. He’d not gotten a letter from Bill since arriving and after what Ginny had said, he was sure that the Weasleys hated him. His mother had always said Arawn was a horrible rotten child and if he was in Slytherin and all Slytherins were horrible and rotten then that must be the case… right?

“Hey now, wot’s all this then?” Hagrid’s voice rumbled as the giant man peeked over the pumpkin and down to where Arawn had hidden.

Arawn hiccuped with a sob, trying to hold it back as he took a deep shuddering breath and said, “I got put in Slytherin and Mrs Weasley told Ginny not to talk to me and I didn’t know having a muggle parent was bad and they found out--” at this point Arawn was rapidly dissolving back into sobs as he ended with a wail-- “and now my hair’s _greeeeEeeen_.”

Hagrid said something too whoever he’d been talking to-- and Arawn thought he saw Professor Lockhart’s blue cloak but he wasn’t sure-- as Hagrid scooped Arawn up and strode to his hut. Arawn was trying very, very, very hard not to keep crying but every other minute or so a new wave would hit right when he thought he was calming down. It was right about when Hagrid set a big mug of tea and some sort of chocolate thing in front of him that there was a knock.

The massive grey dog that had been laying in the corner-- cowering from Morty who was standing atop the back of Arawn’s chair simply staring at it-- perked it ears but didn’t move as Hagrid opened the door. Standing in the doorway was Harry and Hermione who were bracing a rather green looking Ron as he promptly puked a slug.

“Bin wonderin’ when you’d come ter see me-- come on in--” Hagrid said grabbing a bucket to catch the next slug when Ron heaved.

Arawn slid down in his chair, hiccuping as he tried to hide but Hermione spotted him and said, “Oh no, Arawn? What’s wrong?”

If a person could melt, Arawn was a shining example as he burst into a fresh wave of tears and buried his face in his hands. It was quite some time before he calmed down again but during that time Hagrid crossed his arms as he asked, “So what’s this I hear ‘bout Molly tellin you lot not ter talk ter Arawn jus’ cause e’s Slytherin?”

Harry and Hermione shared a look because this was the first they’d heard about it but Ron glanced up from his bucket as he said, “ a’fer mum heard he got into Slytherin she thought he was a bad n’fluence and the reason we took thecarHRUP--”

“That’s rubbish,” Hermione said with a scowl as she shot the two boys a glare. “They’re perfectly capable of making bad decisions all on their own and Arawn spent the entire train ride trying to cheer Ginny and me up.”

Harry looked guilty as he stared at his hands. “I just figured since he was in Slytherin…”

“I’m a horrible person and a rotten awful mudblood,” Arawn sobbed harder.

“Aye now,” Hagrid chastised. “That’s not the sort of talk I’ll be permittin in my cabin, ya hear?”

“What does that mean?” Harry said, looking keen. “Malfoy called Hermione that and everyone went wild.”

Hagrid looked outraged as he growled, “He _didn’!”_

Hermione sank down into the chair beside Arawn, folding her little brown hands in her lap as she said, “He did. I don’t know what it means but I could tell it was really rude of course--”

“ ‘s bout the mos’ ‘nsulting thing e could ‘ink of,” Ron said, coming up from his last batch of slugs. “Mudblood’s a ‘orrible name fer some--” he cut off his explanation with another revolting hork of slug and a groan.

Hagrid took over for him with a scowl. “It’s what they call people who’re muggle-born. Some families think bein’ ‘pure’ by only marryin’ in the magic community is desirable.”

“Rubbish.” Ron’s voice echoed out hollowly from the bucket with a burp.

“Wait…” Harry looked towards Arawn who had finally calmed back down to hiccups as he asked, “Have people been calling you Mudblood?”

Arawn just nodded, wiping at his eyes before he said, “I didn’t know having muggle parents w-w-w--” he paused, taking a shaky breath-- “was _bad_ and then once they found out they’ve been h-h-h- _horrible_ and I w-w-w--”

He quickly jerked his cloak up to his face as the sobs returned and Hagrid gave him a big, thump of a pat as he said, “Hey now, bein’ a muggle-born doesn't make you any less. Look’et Hermione here. Not a single spell she can’t do and she’s top in every class.”

“But everyone _hates_ me and G-gg-g-Ginny wont--” Arawn broke off into a whining sob before he talked into the muffled wad of his cloak-- “Mama said I was evil an now I’m in Slytherin and only evil people are in Slytherin and I’m a horrible person.”

“Bein in Slytherin doesn’t make you a bad person,” Hagrid huffed. “That’s rubbish.”

“I dunno…” Ron said, coming up as he wipes his mouth. “Malfoy, Snape, an You-know-who are all Slytherin. Don’t know a single one who’s not a total git really.”

“Wasn’t aware ya thought me a total git, Ronald Weasley.” Hagrid said dryly as he set down his mug. “Thanks for lettin me know though.”

Ron looked aghast. “You--? You’re not-- no!”

“Yes. Maybe ya think bout that next time you decide to go spewing hurtful words like those there slugs. Think maybe it’s time you three head up to the castle.”

~o~O~o~

Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way slowly up to the castle. Part of that was, rather unfortunately, because Ron had to stop whenever a new wave of slugs came up.

“That was a rotten thing to say,” huffed Hermione once they were around the bend from Hagrid’s hut. “And Arawn’s your _cousin_ \-- you could at least _try_ to be nice.”

“He’s not though,” Ron said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “We’re not related. Fred and George just magicked his hair to the right colour ‘cause he was afraid someone might recognize him and call the muggle police.”

Her eyes narrowed as she asked slowly, “Why would someone call police on him?”

“I think he ran away from home,” Harry said softly. “Can’t say I’m not a little envious.”

That made Hermione stop as she said, “You _can’t_ be serious. Harry they’re your _family_. That’s got to count for something, right? --His family must be worried sick...”

“I dunno, Hermione,” Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked back towards where the hut was. “You didn’t see the bruises he had on him when Bill and mum first brought him home…”

Harry crossed his arms as he remembered the few times the Dursley’s tried their own version of punishment. When they’d found out that didn’t work-- thanks to his magic-- they’d simply ignored him. Perhaps he’d been lucky… he still envied Arawn more than a little for having the courage to simply run away. More so because Arawn was over a year younger and seemed able to take care of both himself and those around him. Arawn may not have known the first thing about magic but he’d still done everything in his power to help-- like when Ron ran into the tree and positively ate it and Arawn pulled out a little first aid kit and helped bandage his arm without any question so that they could stay out longer instead of have to go back to the house to have Molly look at it.

“We should apologise,” he said, already wanting to go back down the hill.

Hermione pushed them both towards the castle though as she said, “Apologise tomorrow. Arawn needs time to talk to Hagrid and calm down. In the meantime maybe we can think of something we can do for _both_ of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I once read someone's headcanon about Hagrid being Slytherin and it's kinda stuck with me ever since. Since a lot of this story started turning into aiming to show that being Slytherin doesn't make someone evil (or ugly-- which the book really tries to push and is a GROSS way to treat children in their formative years) I figured that I'd write Hagrid as having been Slytherin.
> 
> Also, so thanks to my health which took a dip after mucking up my leg-- I'm going to be moving to bi-weekly updates because simple things take a lot of energy right now and even editing the mostly done stuff has been rough for me. :( and being injured hasn't done anyhting good for my mental health so there is that. Still-- thank you wonderful peeps for reading! Yall are lovely.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a slight TW but there is a sentence during one of Arawn's sections that could be viewed as 'suicidal inclinations'. It's very brief but it is there so little warning and the assurance that everything is going to be OK.

* * *

> _Dear Bill,_
> 
> _I’m sorry. I want to change my house. I don’t want to be a bad wisard. I know I shouldn’t have come to Hogwarts but I’d wanted to learn magic. It was selfish and I’m sorry. Please write back? I promise I’ll be good. I know your mom thinks I’m a bad person now and I can’t come back to the burrow and I hate me too but you were my friend. We don’t have to talk about any of my lessons or anything anymore. I like reading about the curses and old ruins. ...please write back?_
> 
> _Please?  
>  Sincerely, Arawn_

* * *

Bill stretched, basking in the glow of the warm Egyptian sun as he cracked his back. It had been ages since they’d had to erect a containment for so long but dispelling this last curse had been a real challenge. The last two week’s mail was in a bin beside his stuff and the camp manager tossed another letter in just as Bill ducked into the tent.

“Hey Horip. Those all mine?” Bill asked, snagging a water from the supply table.

“Uh-huh.” The little goblin grunted.

Though Horip was the most resilient of the goblins on the team, he was still incredibly grouchy when dealing with the above-ground heat. Bill absently refreshed the chilling spell in the tent’s walls before he tucked the bin under his arm and headed for his team’s tent. The tent was bustling with people now that they’d been able to break containment and return to the surface. He wound his way around people as they showered, shaved, dressed, stretched, and generally whatever else they felt like doing now that they were to have a day or so off. What he felt like doing though was sitting down and reading Arawn’s mail.

Often his parents would write to him and his mother would send him the occasional item but never before had it been with this frequency. Having Arawn write to him had become something of a highlight to his day and even some of the team had gotten into the spirit when he’d read some of the letters aloud.

Specs, their structural specialist, came over and leaned against the top section of Bill’s bed as he asked in his thick accent, “More letters from the kid? He should be doing school now, yes?”

Bill nodded, flicking through the letters and checking Horip’s date-of-receival stamps to find the oldest. “Yeah. Should have actually started the week before last. I probably would have warned him that I couldn’t write for a while if I knew we were going to have to set up containment on that last one.”

“Let us know how he’s doing.” Specs said waving a hand towards the pile. “I clear space on the board for if he sent new picture like chicken in pants.”

Kat poked her head in, leaning around the tent wall as she asked, “Hey Bill, you get more letters? How's he doing?”

“Tell you when I’ve read them, Kat.”

“Tellin you-- you should adopt him. Kid’s _adorable_ and you can tell he worships ya.” She said with a wave before disappearing back to her room in the tent. Her muffled voice continued from there as she said, “An' frankly from what ya’ve told us, he deserves to have a family who gives a damn. Can’t say I’d have been nearly as nice to that she-bitch. Think if I met her I’d forget I had ah wand and--”

“I know. You’ve said. Many times. In detail.”

“Yes.” Spec agreed with a shrug from where he was taking old notices off the board. “But always saying it is good thing for bad people.”

Bill pursed his lips, thinking about what Kat had said. Ever since Kat had first suggested adopting Arawn, he’d actually started looking into what it would take. As it turns out, not much. As long as Arawn’s mother and the muggle police didn’t come into play… well, wizard adoptions were fairly simple if you knew that they had no living or magically accepting kin-- all thanks to the muggle-born protection act started after the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Some people might have to take steps or undergo an investigation to prove the adoption as valid but most of the time the ministry just accepted it as long as the kid signed.

His biggest problem-- aside from the fact that he had some doubts that Arawn would actually want to be adopted like that-- was that Bill’s work meant he was often gone for weeks, sometimes even months at a time when a curse required containment. No doubt his mum would take Arawn any time Bill couldn’t have him at a dig but this wasn’t exactly a family-friendly environment on the best of days. Then again, there was the issue that currently Arawn didn’t have any family or guardians in _any_ official capacity and he couldn’t drop Arawn in his parent’s lap forever...

He flicked his wand, summoning up another pillow and he flopped backwards with what he was fairly sure was the oldest letter. He read through, raising a brow before he raised his voice and said, “Ginny got into Gryffindor, my brother _The Idiot_ drove a flying car to Hogwarts and somehow didn’t get expelled, Arawn called the Howler mum sent a ‘yelling letter’ and--” he pulled out the drawing Arawn had sent along and held it out just as Specs returned looking like an eager dog-- “he drew a picture of Morty wearing a hat this time.”

You’d think it was Specs’ kid with how he beamed and pinned it with the other drawings on the board. Kat came over to admire it as she said, “Seriously, I love this kid. If Xue wasn’t 'gainst adopting right now I swear to god I’d steal em 'cause this is too cute. No-- really, that is adorable. Look at the lil wrinkles! Oh-- Hey, you didn’t say what house he got into.”

Bill glanced over the letter again. He was actually a little worried about that because Arawn sounded upset-- or at least as upset the kid could appear outwardly-- because he wanted to change his House. He checked the back of the letter to see if he’d missed anything before he said, “Didn’t say. Just said he didn’t get into Gryffindor with Ginny.”

Wandering over and stealing the water Bill had grabbed from the supply tent, Kat took a drink from it before she said, “Bet you a silver he’s got a crush on 'er. He talks about her more in his letters lately than about himself.”

“That was _mine_ ,” Bill said, kicking at her lightly and missing before saying, “and I don’t think so. I think they’re friends. He’s a sweet kid. If I didn't know Ginny has been drawing hearts about Harry for the past year in her journal I’d think it was _her_ that was pining.”

“Still can’t believe you know Harry Potter,” Kat said, tossing what was left of his water back at him.

“He’s a pretty quiet kid. Quieter than Arawn, actually. He was at the Burrow when I visited.” Bill said absently, picking up the next letter. That letter was shorter and talked about the classes that Arawn had that day but he laughed as he finished it and called, “Kat, guess what class he said he liked.”

“Plants. Bet you anything it was a lesson in the greenhouse.”

“Nope. Said he had that ‘tomorrow’ and was looking forward to it. Try again.”

“Transfiguration? ….do first years take transfiguration?”

“....I-- I honestly can’t remember-- okay I’ll tell you-- He liked Professor Binn’s class,” Bill said, holding the letter out for her to read.

Kat took it, read it, and then hugged the letter to her chest. “Oh. My. _God_. He thinks Binns is _interesting_. He actually interrupted Binns with _questions_. This kid’s a hoot. I can’t wait to tell Xue.”

Specs came over, drinking his water and looking amused as he said, “Really? He found Binns interesting? Who wouldn’t?”

“Shut up,” Kat said as she batted lightly at him. “Just because you went to Dur-hur-m-strange--”

“It’s good school. Very thorough courses--”

Bill tuned out their usual bicker as he read through the next letter. And the next. And then next. The farther he got, the less he paid attention to them until he reached what was the most recent one that had just been delivered that day. To his growing alarm, it was smeared and covered in tear stains-- saying that Arawn knew Molly hated him and begging for Bill to talk to him. Bill stood fast enough to smack his head on the overhang of his bed.

“Horip!” he called, rubbing his head as he nearly ran out of the tent. “Horip!”

“Yeah? Wot?” The little goblin grouched, standing up from their desk. “Mine collapse?”

“Mines fine,” Bill said, glancing over his shoulder to check before he said, “Need a ticket home. Family emergency.”

“What’s going on?” Kat asked as she and Specs caught up with him.

Bill gripped the letter, feeling grim. “Family emergency. I’ll let you know when I get back.”

“Is it the kid? He okay?”

“...no Kat. I don’t think he is.”

* * *

Arawn shifted his mask, trying to tilt his head to look in his cauldron to see what it looked like as he stirred. It… wasn’t going well today. He’d melted a spoon and it felt like nothing he did was right. Though he knew he wasn’t the only one struggling. Some of the other cauldrons smoked and sizzled in ways that they definitely weren't supposed to. Regardless, he desperately wanted to take off his mask so that he could sniff his potion and ingredients so that he could tell what was off. Perhaps it was strange that he needed to sniff it but it had worked last time. True, he’d gotten a bloody nose at the end of class but he’d still made a passable potion. He had just decided to try taking his mask off for just a minute so he could smell things and try to fix his potion when Snape came up and leaned over his workspace.

“You’ve chopped the batwing too fine. It will form too consistent a texture and you will be unable to strain and refine it. It is ruined.”

Arawn ducked his head. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Normally you would have a chance to retry or fix-- but today you are done.”

His throat felt like it was closing as he looked up at the professor. Already Arawn’s lip was shaking and he was almost grateful for the mask that hid the few tears that escaped as he whispered, “I can’t try again?”

“No.” Snape waved his wand, emptying the cauldron and packing Arawn’s case in one fluid motion as he said, “I will consider it passing since it is currently the least foul of the first attempts made within the class. You, however, must go to see the headmaster.”

“D-did I do something wrong?” He asked, trying not to give away the fact that his eyes were leaking mercilessly and it wasn't because of fumes.

“I wouldn’t know. I will have someone return your items to your room. Off you go now.” Snape said with a dismissive flick of his hand towards the door.

When Arawn didn’t move, Snape gave an annoyed flick of his wand and Arawn was forcefully slid out the door which slammed behind him. Standing in the hall where the familiars and other animals all waited, Arawn took a moment to lean against the wall as he tried to get ahold of himself. That moment lasted a little longer than he intended as he stayed frozen there with panic up until Hagrid came thumping around the corner.

“Ah, good. Was afraid Professor Snape was holding you up,” Hagrid said, walking over and patting him on the back before plucking Morty from the sleeping cubby and handing him over. “You’ve got a family visit in the headmaster’s office. I’m to walk you.”

 _No. ...nonononono_. Arawn clutched Morty and couldn’t see the stones as he stared blindly ahead. His voice was little more than a whisper as he forced out, “ kay.”

“You okay there?”

 _No_. He didn’t tell the truth as he gave a squeaky assurance, “Mhm.”

It had to be her. His mum had somehow found him. Someone had turned him in. She’d take him to Mr Sterling again but… he just walked forward. There was a terrifying numbness that settled in as he walked. It was like a scream that never ended and he wondered if maybe Hagrid might let him visit the astronomy tower so he could jump off before they went to the headmaster’s office. Or better yet, maybe he could convince her to take a walk with him in the forbidden forest. If they got lucky they’d run into werewolves. That would be lovely.

Maybe… it wouldn’t be so bad? Maybe she was coming by to say that he could stay and finish out the school year? He’d wear dresses if she allowed him to stay. He’d even go back to the other name and ask Madam Pomfrey if she could make hair grow. Perhaps see if one of the teachers knew how to change the colour too. Since the jinx, the prank green had darkened almost back down to his natural colour except it still had an unmistakable dark green tint.

Maybe it wasn’t his mother. Maybe the school was kicking him out because he cried too much? Had Hagrid told them about his crying? He’d been visiting Hagrid most evenings because he liked helping in the garden and Hagrid was very nice about him being a Slytherin since he’d been a Slytherin too. They got all the way to the gargoyle before Arawn’s breath hitched and he squatted down, shoved his face into Morty’s side, and proceeded to have an absolute meltdown. At this point, Morty seemed used to being used as a tear sponge and the cat just started up a purr as Arawn sobbed against it.

Hagrid picked him up, carrying him up the stairs as he said, “Yer gonna be okay. Shhh. I’m sure ya dun nothin’ wrong. Yer a good kid.”

Arawn wasn’t able to answer as he held his breath and tried to smother himself against Morty. The attempt was broken by the constant hiccup-like need for air that had him gasping in. When they reached the top, Hagrid set him down before he knocked on the door and the headmaster’s serene voice called, “Enter.”

This was it.

This was the last moment of being himself and free.

Arawn sniffled, breathing in a stuttering breath as he stared at the floor and the door swung open. Yet… it was not his mother seated across from Dumbledore. Bill set aside the cup he’d been holding and stood, staring at Arawn. “Hey, kiddo.”

Arawn hiccuped, fighting another wave and quickly loosing as his eyes started watering. Bill strode across the room and suddenly he was kneeling and sweeping Arawn into a hug that probably would have been tighter if Arawn wasn’t cradling Morty. As it was, the now-not-quite-so-small kitten wriggled out of his grasp and onto the floor as it grumbled its opinion of being squished. Once his hands were free, Arawn hesitantly hugged Bill back as he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Bill hugged tighter. “Don’t you dare be sorry. You are just fine the way you are. I’m not mad. Not even a little bit. I don’t hate you and I’m so, so, so sorry I didn’t write.”

Arawn couldn’t help as he sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut. As he clung tighter. It was a while before he was ready to let go and Bill seemed fine with not moving until then. Eventually, Arawn pulled away, wiping at his eyes and giving an ugly thick sniffle as he said, “I’m sorry.”

Bill offered out a kerchief, holding it up as he said, “Don’t be. I came to ask you a very important question and we can stay here for as long as you need okay?”

Glancing nervously to where Dumbledore was faced away pretending to observe one of the twirly bobbles along the wall as he drank tea, Arawn didn’t say what he was thinking. He must have been thinking it rather loudly though because Bill just raised a brow, “If you think I wouldn’t fight Dumbledore, Anubis, or the four sons of Horus himself on your behalf then you are sorely mistaken.”

Arawn gave a weak laugh before he asked, “Do the four sons have a different purpose for wizards than guarding jars?”

“They might. But I’ll have to answer that later. You ready for _my_ question?”

Arawn nodded.

“Ok.” Bill pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it up. “Now you don’t have to answer right now but I need you to think about it. Alright?”

Arawn started to reach for it but Bill tugged it back. “You ready?”

Nodding again, Arawn was pretty sure he was more than ready and also more than ready to go wash his face.

“These are adoption papers. Dumbledore has already agreed to be our witness and he has all the pretty titles that make it permanent--” Bill paused, using his thumb to wipe away one of the new tears that had begun to trickle down-- “Do you want me to be family? Cause I want you to be family.”

Honestly, he wasn't sure if he could say yes so Arawn grabbed Bill’s jacket as he started crying again. Bill didn’t seem as sure of what that meant for an answer as he hugged Arawn back and asked, “Still need time to think about it?”

Arawn shook his head.

“Decided?”

He nodded.

“...no?”

Arawn shook his head, and though he was still crying he managed to get out. “Are-- are you sure? Everybody says W-w-Weasleys have never had a s-Slytherin in the family b-before.”

Bill leaned back, tugging Arawn into his lap as he shifted. Once he had Arawn settled, he unrolled the papers and showed them as he spoke, “Braniac, if I minded would I have this? I would willingly change my name to Mortilus if Weasleys don’t want me just because you’re in Slytherin. Okay? I think you’re the best kid. Ever.”

“...you sure?”

“Mhm.”

“...kay.”

“Kay like yes?”

Arawn nodded. Bill was amazing-- he’d always thought so-- but this felt like it proved everything he’d ever thought about him. Bill switched which papers he was showing as he said, “I know how much your uncle and keeping your last name meant so I wrote the papers with you keeping Mortilus as your last name. I’ll even change mine if you want or if you want to change yours that’s alright too-- We can change it to whatever you want and then Dumbledor will sign it.”

“If… if you keep Weasley can I make it my middle name?”

“Sure can.”

Arawn took the papers, reading them and trying to focus past the sniffles. A lot of it was making sure that the child agreed and knew that the decision was theirs and not the adult’s which seemed strange since in the past adults had always been the ruling party when it came to decisions for him. Eventually, Arawn had to ask, “Bill? What if my mom finds me? You can… you can get me back, right?” his voice shook and he was afraid he’d cry on the papers as he hastily handed them back and continued, “I can’t--”

“She can never touch you again. See this page?--” Bill pulled out one of the thicker forms with heavy script that shimmered faintly-- “This is the muggle-born protection act. Once this is signed, you’re under the protection of this law and you never have to go near her again if you don’t want. As your parent, the ministry will assist if she ever becomes a problem and I have the legal right to defend you. There is a bunch of courtly mumbo jumbo but all in all, what it says is that the ministry of magic recognizes that your birth family is magic-hostile and there are no living magical or magic-friendly relatives so your adoptive parents have full defensive rights.”

“Okay. ...but…”

Bill tilted his head, the limp strands of his ponytail falling over his shoulder as he raised a brow in question. “But?”

“Your mom wouldn’t like it. ...I don’t want you to lose your family too…”

With a sigh, Bill wrapped an arm around Arawn and pressed his face against Arawn’s back. It was shocking to realize but Arawn was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who was an emotional mess and it was possible that Bill was on the verge of crying. More so as Bill let out a shaky breath and raised his head as he said, “I think mom just said something very hurtful because she was scared and upset-- but if she meant it… then I would rather have you as family.”

Arawn turned, offering the kerchief back. On one hand, he wanted to be family. He wanted this. A part of him wondered if it was because he was being selfish and it was because of the protection that this offered but… he also really wanted to specifically be _Bill’s_ family though he’d never considered being adopted in the past. It felt strange trying to think of Bill as his dad. Of what that would mean… And then, what of his own dad back in America with his little brother? True, Arawn used to travel up to see him maybe once every other month and sometimes even less. There was also the fact that although his dad hadn’t cared how he dressed, he’d still called Arawn by his other name. He hadn’t even tried to fight for keeping Arawn and sometimes Arawn resented that but…

“So… need more time to think?” Bill asked.

No. He didn’t need more time to think. When he’d decided to finally empty his savings and run away-- a plan he’d had for ages even if he’d had to enact it a little early-- he knew that he’d made his decision regarding his family. When he’d run away they’d stopped being family. Maybe they’d even stopped being family the first time he’d said he wasn’t a girl and they told him he was wrong. Maybe they’d stopped being family when he’d cry himself to sleep and no one checked on him or maybe it was even when his mother started hiding him from the world because she was so ashamed. Really, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they weren’t family _now_.

“I--…” Arawn took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the last shudders from crying, “I want to be family. I want to be _your_ family and-- and I--”

He broke off when Bill hugged him almost tight enough to hurt. When he let go, Arawn realized Bill was crying and though he was starting to cry too he still offered back the handkerchief as he asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah, kiddo.” Bill said as he simply used his sleeve to dab quickly at his eyes.

“I… can say no if you wanted that instead…”

Bill laughed, shaking his head. “No. That’s-- I just-- do you remember when you said that sometimes things can be scary to do but still a good thing? This was scary. It still is. I’ve obviously never been a dad but… I couldn’t ask for a better son.”

The moment was only made slightly startling by Hagrid’s rather loud honk as he blew his nose. That seemed to do well for reminding Bill and Arawn that they weren’t the only ones there and that they were in the headmaster’s office. No doubt the headmaster had better things to do than let people sniffle on his floor, so Arawn dragged himself up and offered a hand to his new dad who then proceeded to do a fairly good old man act as he dragged himself up to stand.

It seemed like no time at all before the papers were all signed by him, Bill, and then Dumbledore who used a rather pretty pen and ink that shimmered much like the protection document. When they finished, Dumbledore peered at Arawn over the crescents of his glasses as he asked, “Was potions your last class for today?”

“Yessir. I…” Arawn paused and took his schedule for the day out of his pocket to double-check before giving another small nod. “Yes. It was just potions after lunch today, sir. It’s just study hall for first years now sir but I don’t go.”

Headmaster Dumbledore’s eyebrow arched slowly.

Bill chuckled, picking his tea back up and leaning back in the seat he’d resumed as he asked, “Still finishing it all early?”

“Yeah. I don’t like to leave it sitting and it’s just usually half a page. Since I do the reading the night before and take notes it’s usually not much. I--” Arawn paused, glancing back at Hagrid. He didn’t want to get Hagrid in trouble if he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

Hagrid didn’t seem to mind though as he said, “Professor McGonagall gave ‘em permission to skip it so ‘e comes down ter help me garden, Professor. ”

Dumbledore hummed as he leaned back. “Is that how you like to spend your free time?”

Arawn looked away and toyed with the webbing of his fingers as he carefully chose his words. “I, uhm, I like to listen to the crows and the gardens are nice. And Hagrid knows a lot of stuff about the animals and stuff that I don’t know since I had a muggle family. I know we learn some of it in class but it’s nice to learn it now. And when the other kids have quidditch practice, Hagrid lets me sit on the roof and watch.”

“Only cause you bloody climb up an’ do it on yer own if I don’t help,” Hagrid chuckled. “Jus like that beast of yers.”

Speaking of his cat… Arawn wondered where Morty had gone. With all the goings-on he’d kind of forgotten about Morty. He started to look around before Dumbledore quietly pointed to one of the shelves and sure enough, Morty’s skinny little tail could be seen flicking from where he was exploring.

“Morty, leave it alone. Mort. _Sir Felis Mortis_ if you break things you’re going to be in big trouble mister,” Arawn said, heading over as he used his best attempt at a parent voice.

Morty’s response was his typical croaky caterwaul before he gracelessly wriggled back out and trotted over to Arawn. There were a few webs on his ears and as Arawn picked him up he dusted them away. “Leave it alone. You know the rules.”

“You have rules for him now?” Bill asked. “Does he actually listen?”

“Uhm…” Arawn turned back, helping Morty up to his shoulder and into the pouch as he said, “well some kids have spiders as pets. Since Morty likes to eat bugs, I have a rule that he isn’t allowed to eat bugs inside the castle because they might be someone’s pet. It’s another reason that I go to the garden. When Hagrid says one isn’t a good bug for the garden I ask Morty if he wants it. Usually, he does. He’s kind of a pig. But he listens. I think he might be magic too because he’s really smart. Not that cats aren’t smart but… he’s kind of a jerk about it sometimes.”

As if to prove the point, a small paw came out of the pouch to smack Arawn on the ear before retreating. Thankfully it had been weeks since Morty had used his claws on someone and the last time he’d bitten someone it hadn’t been Arawn. Arawn was pretty sure the bitten party had deserved it though because they’d been making fun of Morty’s wrinkles. Frankly, Arawn didn’t care if people wanted to be beastly to _him_ but if they were gonna be mean to Morty then he was gonna show them exactly how many muscles an American ranch kid had. No one had pushed it that far yet though and Morty was pretty good about defending himself.

“Still can’t believe you kept it. Little devil was vicious when you found it,” Bill mused.

Arawn shrugged, fidgeting because he felt like Dumbledore was staring at him-- and he probably was-- as he said, “told you he was just scared cause we’re bigger. I might not know a lot about mandrakes or cornish pixies but most animals you can just assume are scared because the world is much bigger than them.”

“That is a very wise way of looking at the world, Mr Mortilus.” Dumbledore said before shifting the papers on his desk. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from the other professors. Now, I’m happy to have met you myself. However, I’m afraid I need to speak to your father alone for a time. You are free to spend the afternoon as you please.”

* * *

After saying his goodbyes, Bill left Hogwarts with his mind feeling rather aswirl with all that had happened. It still didn’t feel real. Though he’d been out of Hogwarts for nearly five years-- a small amount of time in the grand scheme of things-- it didn’t feel as if he was an adult who did things like chat normally with people like Professor _Albus-Bloody-Dumbledore_. Not to mention that he was… a parent now?

“A’ight there, William?” Hagrid asked, shifting a massive bag over his shoulder as he closed the gate.

Bill didn’t care for his full name on most days but today… he didn’t care as he nodded in greeting and fell into step with Hagrid. “Just processing the day. It’s been a lot to take in.”

“Still need ter talk ter yer folks I take it?” Hagrid asked.

That was something Bill could have gone a little longer without thinking about. He’d meant what he’d said but it… terrified him. His family was close-knit. Not to mention he’d never had a problem with his parents before. Course he doubted that they’d actually kick him from the family or have issues with this… yet the fear still sat heavy in his chest.

“Got ter drop this off,” Hagrid said gesturing to the bag he was carrying, “at the Hog’s Head. Can I buy you a drink ter celebrate or are you headin’ off?”

Much as Bill wanted a drink and to celebrate, he did have a slightly more unpleasant task that he needed to face and it was better to do it sober. Rubbing the back of his neck, he declined with a strained smile, “I think I need a rain check on’it. Fraid I need to go. I-- I planned to go speak to my parents next.”

Hagrid nodded somberly. “Molly ‘n Arthur are good people. It’ll be a’right.”

“I know.” Bill said kicking a stone off the path and watching it skitter into the bushes before his honesty won and he said, “I’m just surprised that they’d say something like that to Ginny and the others. I know dad is stressed and mum’s been driven up a wall by the twins-- probably since they’ve been old enough to walk but… I suppose it just-- I never expected something like that from them.”

“It’s a difficult lesson ter learn-- finding out someone isn’t perfect. Fraid we’ve all got our faults but it’s what important is how they fix those mistakes. Trus’ yer gut on this. They’ll come ‘round.”

“...Thanks, Rubeus. I hope you’re right. Have a good night.”

They waived their mutual goodbyes before Bill apparated. No doubt his mother already knew something was up and that he was coming-- though she wouldn’t know why-- but he knew that she liked to sit in her chair in the living room doing her knitting as she watched the clock to make sure everyone in the family was all alright.

He landed a fair distance away from the gate to both give himself time to emotionally brace himself a little more and to take in the sight one last time in case the worst came to pass. Not that he really thought his parents would do that. Then again they might. He’d struggled to be the ‘good’ child his whole life. Not once had he rebelled-- that they knew of-- and he’d worked himself to the bone during his school years trying to keep at the top of the class. Being good at things and being dependable was how he kept from being lost among his many siblings even if they resented him for it later as his parents compared them to him.

The upper portion of the dutch front door was open and even far away he noticed as his mother peeked out, dishrag in her hand and light shining behind her. He had to stop and take a deep breath to stop from crying like he was someone much younger. Losing this would hurt. He’d always turned to his parents when he’d needed them and trusted them to understand… But now he needed to be that sort of parent for Arawn. Better than - even.

When he was ready, he swung open the front gate. It creaked gently and his mother poked her head out again, “Bill?”

“Hey. ... Is dad home?”

“He’s in transit. We didn’t expect you to come by-- have you eaten?”

“Later. I… need to talk. To both of you.”

Her worry was almost palpable as she set aside the rag and opened the door for him. “William, is something wrong?”

There was a pop and his dad appeared looking worn and tired but he lit up with a smile as soon as he spotted Bill. “William! Decided to stop by for a visit? I hear they just released a containment lock-up near where your site was located. Have a few days off?”

Bill forced himself to take a deep breath as he tried to force a smile in return, but it felt like trying to pull up one of those overfilled garbage bags that he’d magically lighten in order to lift back at the hotel. “Mind if we sit down?”

Once they were in, his mother started to set about with starting tea but he gently took the kettle from her hand as he said, “Can this wait?”

“Oh-- I--” She stopped and slowly lowered to sit on the bench of their kitchen table and Bill didn’t miss the worried glance at the clock she threw as if to make sure this wasn’t about one of his brothers. She slid her hand to grasp his father’s as she asked, “Are you okay? Did something happen at work?”

Bill slowly squatted in front of them as he pulled his copy of the papers from his jacket pocket. It felt like everything that should have been happy was locked behind a large dragon-- which was definitely more his brother’s thing than his-- and it was very difficult to get the courage to face that dragon. In fact, over everything he’d ever faced, Bill was fairly certain this was the scariest thing he’d ever had to do.

“These here are the adoption papers for my son,” he began slowly while also mentally noting how his mother covered her mouth looking quite shocked. He pulled out the tear-stained letter from Arawn next and held it with the papers. As he continued, he had to drop his gaze to the floor because he wasn’t sure he could look at them as he said, “I didn’t plan on doing it so soon but I _had_ already planned to. Originally I was thinking maybe June, but then two people that I respect and love did something that--”

Bill covered his face with his hand and took a deep breath. He wasn’t perfect with words and he rarely cried but this was proving difficult. More-so than he’d anticipated. His next breath in felt more like a gasp but he forced himself to continue, “I had to check and make sure you’d actually said it, but I want you to tell me-- to my face-- why you’d tell Ginny and the others not to talk to Arawn. Why you’d say something horrible like-- I-- And I want to-- I _need_ to know if that’s still how you feel.”

Mum had released his father’s hand and was now wringing her apron hard enough that he could see seams straining. His father seemed to still be processing things. All he could hear for a few very tense minutes was the record his mother had been listening to in the living room and the gentle creek of the old house.

“Now, you see, I’d been rather upset with your brother--” his mother began only to have his father cut her off.

"No." His father almost never interrupted his mother. Yet his father was incredibly serious-- even stern-looking-- as he rubbed at mum’s shoulder and said, “No. We don’t. There aren’t excuses for what was said. … is he alright?”

His mum agreed, patting almost desperately at his father’s hand as she pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “What your father said. And I’m sorry. It-- I won't make excuses. Your father’s right. I had-- I’m sorry to say I had even said such a thing-- I taught you all better than that--”

His father gave her a little push-- more of a nudge really-- but Molly rocketed forward to hug Bill as she spouted more apologies. When things calmed down more, Bill found himself sitting at the table as his mother put together something ‘celebratory’ and his father asked, “So we’re grandparents now? You’ve already signed it?”

Bill slid the paper towards him to show that it was done as he glanced at his watch. “I’ve officially been a father for four hours and twenty-three minutes.”

“Grandparents!” His mother muttered, setting down a fresh pot of tea before hugging his head to her chest and giving the top of his head a quick kiss. “You’re such a good boy. I’m _so_ proud. Grandparents!”

“I…” his father glanced back at mum before lowering his voice and leaning forward, “I want to make sure this was something you wanted. That you didn’t make this hastily because you were angry with us. --Not that I’m not thrilled, mind you. Arawn was a delight to have here and visiting the muggle mail office with him was quite the experience…”

Bill nodded, pulling the papers back and returning them back to his jacket as he answered. “As I said, I’d already been thinking about it. One of my colleagues suggested it and once it was in my head… I’ve had the paperwork since just before he headed to school.”

His mother set down a pie, floating down a few plates as she asked, “Will you both be visiting for Christmas then?”

Christmas. He hadn’t even thought of what he was going to do for Christmas. Though working for Gringotts did have its advantages, he had a limited amount of vacation and travel passes and he’d used his last one for this year on this emergency trip. The tiny surge of panic he felt must have shown on his face because his father said, “Or we could visit you. We can bring the tent and simply camp nearby. You could show us the area when you aren’t working. I’m sure Charlie could visit as well.”

“Yes! You did mention wanting us to visit. We can pick up Arawn from the train for you and--”

“I could use the muggle ar-o-plane! Arawn and I could use it!”

Mum paused and turned a reproachful look at his father and Bill said, “That… won’t work. I looked into riding aeroplanes when I first thought about if he came to visit at the dig during summer. Because muggle police may still recognize him and he’d need certain papers… it’s not a safe option. I’d also like to make sure that Arawn is okay with that first since he’s the one that really needs to be apologized to.”

His father looked rather deflated at that. “Oh. Quite right. ...quite right…”

“Oh-- cheer up Arthur--” mum said kissing his cheek before beginning to pass out pie. “I’m sure now our _grandson_ can tell you almost anything you want to know about muggle things.”

“Mhh…” his father muttered stabbing into his pie dejectedly only to immediately start laughing as he muttered to himself, “a _grandson_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR NOTE: 
> 
> Hey folks, sorry for the long absence messing up my knee has been a bigger hassle than I thought it would be and not being able to move around a lot has kicked up some mighty depression. Still, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you celebrated valentines I hope you spent it with folks you love -- Friends, family, significant others, or better yet yourself! If you didn't take the time to treat yourself then I hope you get the chance to do that because yall deserve it.  
> (Also, do you know how hard it is to make spelling errors in kids letters to look natural?)


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

_Dear ~~Da~~ Bill,_

_I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner but I’ve been trying really hard to keep up with things in school and ~~its~~ it’s been raining which means I had to take new ways to some classes if I don’t want to get wet which takes up a lot of time. I think I’m coming down with a cold too but almost everyone is. Did you know there is a potion that makes you feel better but makes steam come from your ears? It's better than the American medicines I used to use, that’s for sure! Wish we were learning how to make that instead of Sleeping Draught. Who needs Sleeping Draught? And why isn’t there a spell to instantly clear up colds but a spell for cleaning - spesifically- the bottom of a shoe? That seems like an odd choice._

_Anyhow, today I woke up early and there was a little goblin man (? is that what he is? I didn’t want to ask because I thought that might be rude.) in my room cleaning things and setting out my laundry! I had been very confused when things were washed and folded but figured it was a magic thing. I managed to follow him and he’s quite nice and said his name was Gorbelle. There are more of them down in the kitchen (did you know there is a big kitchen?! It’s amazing!) and they asked me if I was hungry. Did you know they can make almost anything?! I mentioned missing some american foods (don’t worry I don’t want to go back! I just miss the food sometimes.) and not always liking sweet things for breakfast and they made me a really good omelet with no tomatos (I’m sorry but why does every meal here seem to have tomato?!)_

_I have also noticed that Professor Snape is much nicer to Slytherin kids than the other houses. I’m not sure how I feel about that. There is hufflepuff, Usnea, who sometimes has potions with me and we’ve started talking. (Not a lot in class because Snape wants us to be quiet.) and yesterday they made a potion that was almost as good as mine (actually it might have been better but the mask makes it very hard to tell.) and Snape said it was unacceptable and swished it away but that mine was ‘passable’. Then again, I am still learning. Maybe it was going to blow up like some of the others did? I still think Snape should be nicer._

_When you were here, you told me that one of your team (Speck?) Liked the drawings? So I made another of some dancing frogs that I saw by the lake._

_Sincerely-- your son?_

_Arawn_

* * *

~O~

Arawn hefted the little tree with a grunt. It was too big to be a bonsai but it was potted like one in a relatively shallow dish. Already he could see what Hagrid had meant about the roots. They were all wrapped fast all around the dish so he was able to carry it all without worrying about it detaching. Of course, since the extra credit project was to actually _get_ it to detach without harming the roots… well, it was convenient for the moment at least.

It was no wonder this was the last tree too. Thanks to a cold, he’d been stuck in bed since Friday morning. Madam Pomfrey was very strict when it came to colds and germs so he’d had to wait until the new Pepperup potion batch was ready. Waiting had unfortunately meant he’d missed out on getting to actually choose a tree. Then again _someone_ would have eventually been the last person who’d have to work on the tree, so it was fine that it was him. He didn’t really mind so much and he was only taking the extra credit out of habit. Well, that and it had sounded like a fun project. If he failed it-- it shouldn’t hurt his grade.

“Yah got that a’right Arawn?” Hagrid asked, holding back Fang who wanted to say hello since Morty wasn’t there to bully him. Poor Morty utterly refused to go out in the rain and Arawn hadn’t been able to see about getting him a sweater yet so that he was more comfortable in these colder months.

Arawn-- who was rather thankful that Hagrid remembered his anxiety around big dogs-- hugged the tree as he squinted through the rain. The wet strands of his hair were plastered down his face and he very much felt like a drowned rat as he answered, “Yeah. I’m good. Thank you. It’s not too heavy.”

Hagrid nodded and Arawn turned and started to totter off before Hagrid shouted, “the path’s a little farther ter yer right. Yer sure you don’t need help?”

“Oh--” Shifting the tree so that he could see a little better, Arawn said his thanks again and started once again to head for the castle, “Nope! I’m good! Thank you!”

Since Hagrid was still actually dry and holding back Fang, Arawn definitely didn’t want him to come get wet helping. As he squished forward, he quietly hoped he was going the right way because between the rain and the tree he was barely able to see anything. When he finally made it to the castle it felt like everything about him was squishy, sloshy, and ultimately soaked. It reminded him of a very long time ago before his parents had split when there had been a heavy summer rain. He and his brother had run streaking out of the house-- stark ass nude so as not to get any clothes dirty-- and they proceeded to have the most epic of mud battles. He could clearly remember the country music that his dad had been playing out of the garage where he was working with their uncle on tuning up his uncle’s motorcycle.

Lost in thought about that day, Arawn didn’t realize that he was also _actually_ lost until he shifted the tree and saw one of the ghosts standing at the window of an unfamiliar hallway looking rather unhappy. Arawn glanced around, trying to place the hall when from across the way came an equally muddy and soaked Harry dragging his broom.

“Hey, Harry. Just getting in from Quidditch practice?” Arawn asked, re-adjusting the tree.

Harry nodded before pulling off his glasses and trying to clean them with a soaking sleeve as he squinted towards the ghost, “Hello, Arawn, Nick.”

The ghost-- who’d been quite startled when Arawn had spoken-- glanced between them. As he did so his head wobbled unnaturally. Arawn was fairly sure this was one of the ghosts that he hadn’t met yet-- though he’d been trying to meet as many as possible because more often than not they were quite interesting people and had been around for hundreds of years. Well, most of them had. The youngest-- if you could call a ghost young-- was actually under a century and spent nearly all her time in one of the girl’s bathrooms. Arawn had only found it because he’d needed a shower but didn’t feel comfortable using the one close to the dorm since none of them were private. Sure, the one Myrtle haunted was ‘technically’ a girl’s bathroom but at least the shower and toilet stalls were actual stalls and he could have some privacy. There was the added bonus that because of Myrtle no one really went to it and so no one ever asked why he was there.

Well… except Myrtle. Myrtle had screeched at him and he’d cried. It must have been the first time that she’d actually made someone-- particularly a boy-- cry before because she’d been quite nice after that and he liked to visit her to ask her questions that most of the other ghosts wouldn’t answer. She also sounded a little lonely and was the only Ravenclaw he’d ever gotten to speak to so far.

Nick-the-ghost nodded at both of them, his head wobbling more with every nod. “Hello, hello. Been out in the rain have we?”

“Uhm, yes. Hello,” Arawn said with a nod. He was a little at war with himself because though Ron had apologized for what he’d said in Hagrid’s hut, most of the Weasleys and their friends still avoided him and he’d yet to try and mention that he was… their nephew? It was very confusing even if he was grateful. However, all of that aside, Arawn didn’t want to make Harry uncomfortable by sticking around, yet… well, he _really_ wanted to use this opportunity to meet the ghost.

“Something the matter, Nick?” Harry asked, tilting his head to look at the letter the ghost was clutching. “Or just admiring the rain?”

Nick flicked a hand dismissively, his long elegant fingers of one hand accidentally trailing through the window as he made his dramatic gesture while his other hand tucked the letter away. “It’s of no importance. ...It’s not as though I truly wished to join and as I somehow ‘don’t fulfill requirements’... I simply--” he cut off with a gusty sigh.

That didn’t sound at all as if he hadn’t wanted to join whatever it was he wanted to join. In fact, Arawn thought that this Nick fellow looked rather upset over it all.

“Mister, Nick, sir,” Arawn began as he set down and stepped around his plant so that he didn’t have to peer over it in order to talk, “may I ask what you were trying to join?”

Nick started to wave his hand again as if to shoo the question away. “Twas nothing. Simply the Headless Hunt.” He barely paused before visibly becoming more agitated and continuing, “but you would think, wouldn’t you, that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join?! I dare say, no one more than I wishes that it had been quick and clean and a proper beheading-- I mean it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule--”

He paused only long enough to pull the paper he’d tucked away back out and read the letter aloud. When he finished, he brandished it as he said, “Half an inch! Simply half an inch of skin and sinew so now I’m stuck forever to be ‘Nearly Headless’ while Sir Properly-Decapitated- Podmore gets to decide that’s not good enough!”

When he was finished Arawn interjected, “That’s rotten of them. Why can’t they just make new activities so that you’re included too? They sound like a bunch of bullies.”

Both Harry and Nick looked rather taken aback by that. Perhaps it had been his tone. He didn’t like to raise his voice if he could ever help it, and now he felt like hiding behind his tree.

“I-- well, I suppose I’d never thought--”

Nick was cut short as a loud and rather demanding meow sounded. It was Mrs Norris. Arawn crouched down as he pulled a somewhat soggy treat from his pocket and said, “Good evening Mrs Norris. You are looking very lovely. I would hug you but I am all wet and your coat is very nice. If you are looking to visit Morty he’s still in my room. He doesn’t have long fur like you and this castle is very cold.”

Harry edged past, looking nervous as Nick said, “You two had best be off like a proper beheading. Filch is in a foul mood--”

As if summoned by name, Filch popped from one of the tapestries-- Arawn glimpsed a hidden tunnel just beyond-- before the caretaker’s eyes alit on Harry and he bellowed “FILTH! Mess and muck everywhere! I’ve had enough of it, I tell you! Enough!”

Harry looked quite shaken-- probably as shaken as Arawn felt-- but Arawn wasn’t going to let Harry get in trouble just because they’d stopped to chat with the ghost. He gently patted Mrs Norris who started purring. It was a rumbly loud thing that made Filch pause just long enough for Arawn to say, “I’m sorry sir. I was sick and only just picked up my tree. Harry was helping me because I’d gotten lost. I’ll clean up the puddles if you want.”

Without waiting for an answer Arawn turned and used what was by far his favorite spell that he’d learned-- “ _Scourgify_!”

The muddy puddles swirled up and vanished with a series of bright little pops. Breathing heavy with a slight wheeze, the caretaker stood there frozen. Then he hunched, scowling fiercely as he said, “You’re off the hook this time, Potter. And you--” Arawn forced a smile as he knelt down to offer out another treat for Mrs Norris and Filch seemed to deflate further-- “what are you feeding her?”

“They’re dried fish strips, sir. Well… mostly dried. They’re a little wet from the rain but I keep them for my own cat, Felis Mortis. You see, Mrs Norris likes to visit him so I know she likes them too. My, uhm, my dad he sent me them because he knew Mrs Norris had liked them when he was going to school and he thought Morty would like them too.”

“Yes… well…” Filch waved a tired hand, hiding a cough as he did so. “Go on. Stop dripping on my floor.”

Arawn nodded while also tilting his head towards the hall looking at Harry, and Harry thankfully, took the hint. However, Harry surprised him as he pulled out his wand-- “ _Wingardium Leviosa_.”

Up the tree floated and Harry quickly moved off down the hall with it along with Nick. Arawn gave a final wave-- “Feel better Mr Filtch Sir!” and then trotted after him.

Harry waited for him around the corner grinning widely along with a much happier looking Nick who was saying, “I was afraid that was going to go poorly. I might have been able to get Peeves to knock something over but-- I’m dearly sorry, I hadn’t meant to take up your time and nearly get you in trouble like that.”

“It’s no problem,” Harry said as he turned his attention to Arawn, “That was brilliant! I thought I’d have detention for sure.”

Arawn gave a small shrug. “I’m just really good at that cleaning spell. It’s the only one I don’t have trouble with. And Bill sends me a new jar of fish pretty regularly because he knows I like to visit Hagrid a lot and sometimes I’m out later than curfew but Mrs Norris never tells because she likes the treats.”

“I thought you said your father sent it to you,” Harry asked rather keenly.

“He… did. Kind of. Bill, uhm, he adopted me. A few weeks ago.”

“...We are talking about the same Bill, right? Bill Weasley? Ron’s older brother?”

Arawn gave a small nod.

“Ron never said anything. Congrats!”

“Thank you. It was the least I could do. I’ve--… I’ve noticed that Slytherins and people who favor them can be rather horrible. That and Mr Filch has had the flu and he’s had to clean more because of the weather. It must be horrible. I don’t know why they don’t hire him an assistant. Speaking of horrible-- Mister Nick, sir, is there anything we can do? About the Hunt?”

Nick-- who looked a little startled by either the question or for having been addressed at all-- quickly tucked the letter he’d been clutching back into his fancy vest as he said, “Oh no, no I-- well perhaps-- but no, that is asking too much-- I dearly doubt you’d want to…”

Harry and Arawn both shared a look before Harry asked, “What is it?”

Nick hedged, looking torn between proud and nervous before he carefully dusted himself of nonexistent fluff and explained, “Well, it so happens that this Halloween will be my five-hundredth deathday.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful!” Arawn said gleefully-- though he noticed that Harry seemed rather unsure. “That must be very special! Are you planning on doing anything to celebrate?”

This seemed to be exactly what Nick had desired as a reaction though because he preened as he answered. “I’m holding a party down in the lower dungeons. Some friends of mine will be coming from all over the country and Harry, it would be a true honor if you could attend? Mr Weasley and Miss Granger are more than welcome as well as… Arawn was it?”

“Yessir. Arawn Obitus Mortilus. Er… Weasley Mortilus now I think.”

Nick looked quite surprised. “Mortilus? Surely? I had thought they had all died! Oh, no matter-- I… well I don’t suppose you’d like to come? I daresay you’d rather go to the school feast…”

“I’ll come!” Arawn said, jumping at the chance to go to a party with ghosts. “I’d love to come! You only get one five-hundredth deathday after all.”

Nick beamed and then looked to Harry hopefully. Looking very much like he wasn’t quite as excited about attending a ghost party, Harry said, “I’ll come. It’s no trouble.”

“Oh! My dear boy! Harry Potter, at my deathday party! I-- Would you, Harry or even Arawn, would either of you be willing to say how _very_ frightening and impressive you find me?”

“Er-- of course,” Harry answered as Arawn gave a delighted nod.

* * *

~O~

_Dear Bill,_

_I got invited to a deathday party! I have found out he is the Gryffindor ghost so perhaps you knew him-- his name is Nicholas. He was very upset because a headless hunt group wouldn’t let him join because he still has his head or something? That seems rather unfair. I’ve been a bit upset about it really. I’m not sure why I’m mad either but if I ever see them I might tell them what I think about them being rotten about something someone can’t change. Poor Nick looked really upset by the letter they sent him. Have you ever noticed though that most ghosts look upset? Myrtle is usually crying, the lady in the tower just looks sad and doesn’t say anything, the bloody baron just looks angry. Well, I suppose there is the fat Friar but I’m thinking he’s what my old books would call an ‘outlier’ and not to be counted. It seems rather sad though, don’t you think? To be a ghost and not to be happy that you have so much time and so many people to meet? I keep meaning to ask them what it takes to be a ghost. I wonder if someone can become a ghost if they’ve been dead a while?_

_Please tell Kat and Specs I said hello and I’m sorry I didn’t draw anything this time. We’ve been practicing charms today and then I sat and practiced while in Hagrid's garden-- I think it was all the swishing and flicking or maybe I was gripping my wand too hard because my hand cramped up earlier which is why this leeter will be a little short._

_Sincerely, Your son, Arawn_

* * *

~O~

The next few weeks passed in a blur and fairly soon Arawn found himself getting ready to go down to Nick’s Deathday party. Since he’d never been to a deathday party he’d asked Myrtle what one normally does there and if she’s come with him. Most of what he’d found out is that deathday parties are mainly a reason for ghosts to get together-- which sounded like quite a few American holidays and not too terribly different. The main difference that he’d discovered was that sometimes the ghosts even put out food that’s rotten enough that it’s nearly edible for a ghost. That part sounded less than appealing though so he was bringing the last of his granola bars just in case Nick forgot that he’d invited living people and didn’t have food.

It was almost a shame too. The Halloween feast was supposed to be absolutely marvelous with bats and Hagrid’s giant pumpkins that he’d been helping with-- but to be honest he was just as excited about a deathday party. As he was helping Morty into the hood pouch-- something that the kitten was starting to outgrow-- Myrtle dropped down from the ceiling. She’d fussed with her pigtails some but otherwise looked roughly the same.

“Hi, Myrtle. I’m almost ready. Thanks for walking with me. I know you could have just gone through the walls.” Arawn said as he tugged his cape forward to settle properly and not choke him. When he was done he gave his robes one final dust-off before he offered out an arm to Myrtle, “Join me m’lady?”

She giggled. The high pitched sound echoed even with all the tapestries that hung from the stone walls. Looping her arm both through and around his she asked, “Arawn, you’re a really strange boy you know? ...are all boys like you in the Americas?”

“Its a big place-- but no. I’m sure there _are_ folks like me but I’ve never met them. Did you do something with your hair? It looks nice”

Thankfully the party’s location wasn’t too terribly far from the Slytherin common room because as much as Arawn liked Myrtle-- touching a ghost for an extended period of time went quickly from cold and unpleasant to being painfully chilled and risking frost burn. That only seemed to be enhanced as they approached the door where the candles had turned blue from all the ghostly bodies pressed so close together. He hoped that Morty wouldn’t be too cold as he greeted Nick.

“Hello Sir Nicholas, I know Myrtle said there is a traditional somber greeting but I wanted to wish you a _happy_ deathday because I’m really glad to meet you even as a ghost.”

Looking rather surprised, Nick held a hand to his head-- possibly to keep it from wobbling-- and smiled as he said, “Why thank you Arawn. I rather think I’m pleased to meet you as well. Oh-- I have a surprise for you!”

Nick led the way, as he said, “I’d like you to meet a dear old friend of mine. I’m afraid he doesn’t say much-- his death was less clean than mine I’m afraid-- but he was a friend even back when I was alive. Really a pity. I suppose that’s the risk with making prophecies to muggles.”

They stopped in front of a ragged looking ghost who hung dismally in the air listening to the band as they screeched slowly along. Nick placed a hand on the ghost’s shoulder as he said, “Arawn, this is Obitus Mors Mortilus one of your great-great-something ancestors!”

Arawn tried not to look too closely at the stumpy appendages where Obitus’ arms should have had hands, gave a bright smile. “It’s really nice to meet you, sir. I’ve never met anyone from my father’s side of the family before.”

Obitus’ eye bugged and he gave a breathy sounding groan as he raised a stump to his chest and bowed.

Grimacing, Nick leaned in to whisper, “Afraid they may have also cut off his tongue. I’ll leave you two to catch up. I’ve more guests to greet! Do try to enjoy yourselves!”

“Yessir! And may I say how very frightening you are tonight!” Arawn replied brightly in an attempt to hide his dismay at being left with a handless, tongueless ancestor who technically couldn’t ‘catch up’ with Arawn. Once it was just them, Arawn faced Obitus with another strained smile. “Uhm… Nick says you died because you made a prophecy to muggles?”

The evening seemed to eek on with horrible slowness. It was only made worse by the smell from the buffet table which was making Arawn ill. Thankfully it was the smell that gave Arawn a polite excuse to leave. Through the masses of ghosts he wasn’t sure if he’d seen Harry or the others but he had other things on his mind as he headed out. The best part about holiday nights like this was that curfew was pushed back by several hours-- which of course meant that if he wanted to go to the library and read while his stomach settled then he very well could.

Meeting his ghostly ancestor had left him with a lot of questions that couldn’t be answered. A lot of the questions were mainly how a ghost was formed. Yet there was also a pressing question of how folks kept recognizing his name. Often he felt a little odd about asking for clarification-- and other times he remembered what revealing things about his ‘muggle’ parents had led to. Mainly bullying and his still green hair.

The library was comfortably quiet-- only a couple other students had the same idea as him and the bass from the music being performed in the great hall could be heard like a softly hummed lullaby. Arawn wandered among the stacks, eyeing the different sections as he realized that he had no clue where to start. Even finding a solid section on ghosts had proven difficult in the past. Nothing about their organizational system seemed to make sense and it wasn’t like there was a wizard google he could use--

“Hey Arawn.”

Arawn jumped, heart feeling like it had dropped out of his chest and flopped onto the floor like a fish out of water. Clutching his chest, he turned to see someone holding a stack of books in the shadows. Their dark skin blended easily into the gloomy shadows and only once they freed a hand to touch their wand to one of the nearby lamps did he realize it was Usnea.

Usnea grinned. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Decided to do some studying while it was quiet too?”

“Kinda. I just--” Arawn paused, fidgeting. Usnea had always been nice to him in the past but they really only talked in whispers while working on potions. He didn’t know a lot about Usnea or how they felt about muggle born folks.

“Just…? Are you alright?”

“I-- Uhm… I’m muggle born.”

Usnea simply stared at him. “...alright?”

Arawn fidgeted more, twisting his fingers almost until they hurt as he asked, “Most, uhm, people don’t like that. But I, uhm, people seem to think I’m related to a wizarding family that was well known. I was going to try and look them up but I don’t-- uhm, I don’t know where to start.”

Setting down their books, Usnea came over and looked up at the stack as they asked, “Well, how famous or well known do you think they are? What’s the name?”

“Mortilus?”

“Mortilus? ...that _does_ sound familiar but I don’t remember what from,” Usnea said, pulling over a stepping stool and standing on it as they reached for a thick book. “I’ve meant to ask but I noticed your accent. You’re from the Americas right?”

“Uhm… yeah.”

“That’s fun. My father visited there before he met my mother.”

“Did your father travel a lot?” Arawn asked, trailing after Usnea as they pulled books seemingly at random from different stacks and began a rather impressive pile on one of the tables.

“Some. Usually it’s just within Africa but sometimes he heads to the Americas for research. He’s there right now actually helping investigate some sort of attack on a muggle family.”

“Oh. ...What does your father do?”

“He’s a creature specialist. Usually he helps map territory patterns for different creatures and can identify what is at fault if there is an attack. When I was little he used to let me come along when it was safe-- Ah-hah, this book might have something on families-- let’s see… Chapter forty-seven… hmmm… Here, see if your family name is in this one and I’ll look through One-Hundred Famous Flickers.”

Arawn accepted the dusty tome and started absently scanning the page that Usnea had opened to. He’d never expected someone to help-- though he was certainly grateful for it-- but now that he was trying to sit down and concentrate it felt like his brain wanted to do anything but read. However, he didn’t want to disappoint Usnea so he simply stayed quiet as he stared at the page.

“Do you have family here?” Usnea eventually asked, breaking the quiet much to Arawn’s relief.

Arawn looked up, keeping his thumb over the paragraph he must have attempted to read twenty times. “Uhm… I don’t think so. I mean, kinda. I’m, uhm-- I was adopted. Recently.”

“Oh. Congrats?”

“Thanks…” Arawn cast desperately around his brain, not really wanting to let the conversation die yet. “Uhm… So your dad is from Africa? And your mom?”

Usnea braced a hand under their chin as they said, “Well, she’s technically from France since that’s where my gran settled down but her family is spread all over the place. She works for the Ministry though and travels between different country’s Ministries to keep all the records on regulations up to date. ...I don’t see her that often but she made dad promise to send me to Hogwarts instead of Uagadou because it’s a family tradition.”

“... did you want to go to Uagadou?”

“Mmm,” Usnea gave a half-hearted shrug as they began to toy with the wrinkled corner of the book in front of them. “It would mean I could go home on the weekends if I wanted and spend time with dad when he’s home. I didn’t want to upset mom though. And she said Hogwarts would be fun.”

“... is it not?”

Usnea’s eyes darted up for a moment before they gave another shrug. “It’s alright. Hah-- Sorry. I was supposed to be helping you and now I’m just talking about myself.”

Arawn grinned finally moving his thumb from the page and giving up on reading for the moment. “No-- I don’t mind. Most people don’t talk to me because I’m in Slytherin so this is nice. I like hearing about your family. And I didn’t know there were other schools. Well, I kinda knew there might be one in America because someone asked why I didn’t go to that one but my family in America wasn’t magical so I didn’t know I had magic until I was… here.”

“So was Mortilus the family you were adopted into or…?”

“Oh, no. Mortilus was my Uncle and Father’s family. They were adopted by a family in America but allowed to keep their last name. The-- er-- my… dad? New dad. He let me keep my last name too and I took his name, Weasley, as my middle name.”

“Weasley? Like Arthur and Molly?”

“Kind of. I was adopted by Bill. Their son.”

“HA!” Usnea let off a burst of laughter that they cut short as they glanced around to see if the librarian might pop out and shush them. When no shush came, Usnea leaned forward looking gleeful. “My mom sometimes works with Arthur when she needs a muggle liaison. She and Molly swap recipes sometimes. I’ve never met them but I hear about them all the time. I hear most of their kids are here at Hogwarts right now.”

Arawn nodded as he ticked off his fingers. “Ginny is a First year. Ron is Second. George and Fred-- the twins-- are Third, and Percy is in fifth. He’s a Gryffindor Prefect. The other two are already graduated. I’ve never met Charlie but Bill talks about him a lot. Bill is the one who adopted me-- he’s the oldest.”

“I can’t even imagine that many siblings. I’m an only child. Do you have siblings?”

“I-- kind of. My, uhm… my brother. He still lives with my uhm… father. In America.”

Usnea’s brows slowly crunched before they asked, “Do you miss him?”

“Sometimes,” Arawn said with a small shrug of his shoulder.

Truthfully he missed what his family had been before his uncle’s death. They weren’t ‘perfect’-- as if any family really could be-- but he remembered them all being happy at least. Or more happy. Not to say, of course, that he wasn’t happy now even if the bullying at Hogwarts was hard to take sometimes. Though he wasn’t really sure what the future really held for having Bill as his father he liked knowing that Bill at least seemed to listen to him which was more than he’d had previously.

His thoughts must have reflected on his face because Usnea gave a tense smile. “Sorry. I don’t mean to pry. Did you find anything in your book?”

Arawn glanced down, trying to find where he’d previously been trying to read and not recognizing any of it before he shook his head. “No. You know when you startle a bunch of birds out of the trees and they just go flying in a big frantic mess?”

“...yes?”

“I think my brain is like that right now,” Arawn said heaving a sigh. “I’m not sure I can read any of this. ...thanks for helping though.”

Usnea grinned though it faded slowly as he spoke, “We can keep looking another time. Or-- I mean if you wanted to?”

“I can’t imagine it would be a very interesting project,” Arawn said ruefully.

“Nonsense. I think it’s plenty interesting. Plus, I wouldn’t be able to leave it alone until I figured out where I’d heard the name from. I know I’ve heard Mortilus somewhere before…”

Arawn smirked. “Like from the sorting hat?”

With a laugh, Usnea shook their head. “No. I’m sure I read it… if only I could remember where.”

“STUDENTS--” both Usnea, Arawn, and the others who were lurking in the library all jumped as the magically enhanced boom of McGonagall’s voice echoed out-- “RETURN TO YOUR DORMITORIES DIRECTLY AND WITHOUT DELAY. ANY STUDENT FOUND OUTSIDE OF THEIR DORMITORIES MAY FACE DETENTION OR EXPULSION FOR NOT COMPLYING QUICKLY AND CAREFULLY.”

Arawn stood as Morty gave a wiggle in his hood and poked his nose out. He gathered up the books hastily, shoving them onto a nearby return cart as he said, “I thought curfew was lifted?”

“It was,” Usnea said glancing up at the ceiling with a frown as they took their own pile of books over. “I wonder if something happened.”

Together they joined the few other people leaving the library and scuttling down the paths to the lower dormitories as Arawn asked, “Do you think so?”

“Maybe. My cousin said last year there was a troll let loose?” Usnea said before pausing at the corner and carefully peeking around it.

Arawn peeked as well only to have a hand land on his shoulder from behind. He spun around with a yelp to see Snape. Beyond him was the Headmaster, Dumbledore, as well as McGonagall, Filch, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“Mr. Mortilus,” Snape said with what was likely the most unfriendly expression Arawn had ever seen him have. “We need you to come with us. You may go to your dorm xer Pretorius.”

Usnea looked at them with wide eyes before edging away and scuttling down the hall and Arawn found himself being led up the stairs and away to the headmaster’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: Hey folks. First of all, you're probably wondering "Who's this?!" And yes, I finally changed my name. Also, sorry for not posting this sooner. I don't know about yall but depression makes my inspiration turn into a raisin and these last few months have been rough between my health problems and everything else. Funny enough I've literally had this chapter sitting in the document since February but I couldn't figure out how to end the dang thing(honestly I added a sentence at the end and that was it haha. I would have liked there to be more but I wanted to give SOMETHING and I know I haven't been writing a lot) but it's here now so... yay?
> 
> To be honest I was real unsure how closely I wanted to skirt the original story with Harry and I decided to have very sparse interactions where Harry's story-- while influencing Arawn's-- takes a back seat. (I mean, if you wanted to read Harry then you'd be there and not here lol) ....thinking back I may have mentioned all this but with my memory, I can never be too sure.
> 
> I hope folks are staying safe, hydrated, and if you're out protesting that you're taking the proper precautions (and once again staying hydrated.) It's a very turbulent time to be alive. Honestly, I don't think I've been 'ok' since 2016 tbh but I'm hoping that we all begin to see the change we're all striving for and a better more equal world. I know so many fine folks who've worded it better than me so I shan't talk too much on it but now is the time to be mindful of your actions. To listen. To be, as Mr Rogers would have put it, a Helper. It's understandable if you don't have the energy to be a Helper or do a lot for folks but even little things can make a difference. Boost the people that need to be heard, support your black and colored neighbors as well as wear masks and take preventative measures against the disease-- not for yourself but for those around you! I'm not sure I watch a single person who hasn't said all of this already but sometimes things as important as this bears repeating. 
> 
> Once again I say, be safe lovelies. You are all wonderful, precious, and loved. Take care of yourselves and be kind to others. We will get through these times. ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thanks for making it this far! I'm hoping this fic will have pretty regular updates (I'm thinking Fridays? How do yall feel about that?) as I work through/edit the backlog but if updates get a little slow please keep in mind that aside from some really shitty health issues I also have a lot of my time sucked away by original projects/work. Once again a big thank you to all my readers/commenters (I know I sometimes see the comment notification and just forget to answer but know that I hoard your comments and kudos in a little folder on my computer and you are all the reason I keep going!) I love y'all! ♥ Big hugs to you all and I hope you all are doing well! ♥


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